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deadsetobsessions · 10 days

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Once more the hallucinations hit, and once more I am here writing it out.

My brain is fucking terrifying and I want out, so bad. This came to me in the form of a nightmare.

Also, please don’t take the timeline into consideration, because I have no idea what’s going on. Again, nightmares and dreams tend to not have the best coherency when it comes to plot and timelines. The reincarnation doesn’t have a name, I was too busy feeling terrified. Shit in parentheses was how I experienced the nightmare. Everything else is just me adding sprinkle sprinkle.

——

Ra’s al Ghul.

Talia al Ghul.

Two names that she had been aware of, in the peripherals of her hyper fixation. Two characters meant to enhance the story of the Dark Knight. Side characters, on a good day. Perhaps, a main antagonist on a better day.

On a bad day?

Main characters. Real, living people. Real, living, breathing assassins.

Unfortunately, they’re her new family. One she remembered coming into, bathed in a pool of blood and screams.

She was not a baby.

She is now, a baby. The first of Talia al Ghul’s children. The eldest, once Damian al Ghul was born.

Swaddled in emerald green and gold silks, she was presented to a man with silver streaked hair and a receding hairline. He too, was robed in green and golds.

“A daughter, Talia?” He rumbled, the smooth Arabic flowing out of his mouth failing to hide the acrid disappointment. The child, past the haze of confusion of suddenly being deported from her own adult body into one of a helpless child, felt a stirring of irritation. It’s good she learned the language, because now she knew exactly how Ra’s felt about her. The child grumbled a displeased sound. Not that she would have ignored the fact that her grandfather was Ra’s al Ghul. (He smelled like moth eaten fabric and blood- but I think that was because my cat accidentally scratched me.)

“My apologies, father.”

“Do not tell the young detective of this. Had it been a son, perhaps things would have been different. No, a daughter would only hinder him.”

Talia bowed, hands tightening on her daughter. “May I raise her, father?”

“A resource is still a resource. Go ahead, Talia.”

“Yes, father.” Talia took the dismissal and bowed before leaving.

On her way back to the room with the reincarnation’s crib, Talia al Ghul stroked her daughter’s head.

“I wish you were born a boy, my daughter. I am sorry my beloved will never know of you.”

The reincarnation looked at her new mother. She’s young, the woman-child realized. A teenager.

“You’ll have to be useful, my daughter. Your grandfather is not so kind as to keep the useless. I… do not wish for your death,” her mother muttered.

Great. She got new life and it’s already in danger.

——

She learned to swing a knife. Swords. She learned and devoured the teachings. She learned to be useful.

But then they asked her to take the life of a man who did her no wrong.

Her baby blues clashed with her grandfather’s Lazarus green.

She was still young. A child.

“No.”

“No?”

“He did no wrong.”

“He failed, granddaughter.” Ra’s smiled down at her, patronizing. Cruel. “Perhaps you possess your father’s heart, and you are foolishly sentimental, as women and children tend to be. But in the end, you are an al Ghul and you will obey. Plunge in your blade and I will reward you.”

The reincarnation looked at the man kneeling in front of her, resignation and a hint of pity in what little she could see of his face.

She’s already died before. What did she have to be afraid of?

“No.”

They tried to beat the weakness out of her. It didn’t work.

——

The reincarnation stared at the mirror, left alone in an opulent cage of gold and emeralds and precious stones that meant little to her now.

Her hands traced her back, small fingers finding purchase in soft skin. Her mouth opened fruitlessly, noise refusing to escape. She still felt the burning magic, the brand her own blood had carved into her skin and soul because she refused to kill. The chains her grandfather had shackled around her with magic and cruel amusement.

She had killed him, in the end. Obey, or be punished. Her body had moved without her permission, the reincarnation a prisoner in a body that refused to do as she commanded. The knife swung, a life taken, her hands dipped in red.

She learned a valuable lesson that day.

There were things worse than death.

“This is an order, granddaughter.”

The Magic had flared a searing heat at her neck, forcing her to kneel on broken legs. Ra’s loomed above, authority in his voice. She was bound to obey, regardless.

“You will never speak another word of affection, you will never speak another word to anyone unless I allow it. Perhaps this will teach you of your folly, and your place in this world.”

The loss of her freedom and the fear that came with it was a bitter and devastating lesson.

——

Ra’s al Ghul was so much worse than what little she knew of him.

She was right to be afraid for herself.

Her mother had worried, when she’d withdrawn and refused to speak to her. Even if she could, the reincarnation would not have wanted to. The reincarnation had felt furious, back then, when she thought of Talia. Her mother who refused to protect her. Her mother, who claimed she loved her but refused to see the chains Ra’s wrapped around her neck. She who plied the reincarnation with a supportive hand but forced her into the fighting pits.

But, as the reincarnation stumbled out on bruised and used legs from Ra’s al Ghul’s meeting chambers where he had allowed his business partners to partake in her, she realized that Ra’s was a monster in a human’s body and her mother was a victim of his making.

The lesson Ra’s taught her that day was that if she was not useful, if she did not kill, he would take what was left of her and make use of her.

Hate flared in her heart, and the beginning of Ra’s downfall began the day he let her go from the chambers alive. Injured, but alive. Injured and violated, but alive and furious.

——

She carved her hate and rage and helplessness and fear in the bodies of the people he bid her to kill. Her silenced screams were expressed in the way she splattered blood, the way she covered herself in it. A killing machine first, a stress reliever second, and a child… wasn’t on the list of things she was allowed to be.

His enemies were felled, one after another. He gave her his approval, something she detested.

But still, she continued, bodies racking upwards, tens turning to hundreds, hundreds edging into thousands.

The red in her ledger became ichor and guilt. Her language became violence and obedience.

“You have become a sharp tool, granddaughter.”

She was a genius, after all. And now, she could not disobey. A blade that Ra’s believed will never point towards him. She kneeled. She obeyed.

“Thank you, grandfather.” Her words were only allowed to come out- without searing, terrible pain- when she was thanking him. She tried not to do it as often as he wanted. He thought he broke her when he read the obedience she carved into her body language.

But she never bowed. Never. Not to him. Never.

——

“My weapon could learn much from your granddaughter,” David Cain sat across from Ra’s, wine in their stupid goblets. How she detested the green and blacks he’s seen fit to dress her with. She’s dressed provocatively, not of her own choice. She doesn’t have much of those- doesn’t have much in ways of choices- these days.

She was twelve, and Ra’s al Ghul deserved to die.

“Her combat is a higher form of what my daughter has achieved. How did you do it?”

When Ra’s began to reply, she slipped away.

She found the girl. She found… the cage- the black box- the child was placed in. The child flinched from her when she opened the metal box, fear only easing as the reincarnation kept her body language neutral and kind. (It was pitch black, and about the size of like, a closet. No light. Only from whatever door the box had.) (Cass’ hands hurt from banging on the walls to be let out)

David Cain’s daughter, her mind whispered, the memories of another life once more making itself known.

“Cassandra.” She whispered, regretting it immediately when pain wracked her body. She fell to her knees as the punishment for disobeying an order slammed into her.

The girl looked at her in concern, but did not move closer. The reincarnation stared at this girl and saw a reflection of herself.

David Cain would be here for a month. She will free Cassandra in those days.

——

The weapon stared at the girl in front of her, kneeling in pain.

She did not understand.

The girl came back. Water. Food. Kind.

The weapon felt warm. The girl was quiet. No sounds. Good. The weapon knew the girl understood. The weapon thinks that the girl is a weapon too.

The girl comes back, again. This time, she makes a sound. It hurt her, but she did it again. The weapon understands when the girl points at herself and repeats the sound. The sound means the girl. The girl expects something from the weapon.

The weapon makes the sound, flinching to see if the owner will come to punish it. The girl purposefully sits, relaxed but vigilant… and protective. Of the weapon?

The weapon relaxed. It repeated the sound, pointing at the girl.

The girl smiles, in pain. But approval. The weapon feels- the weapon is warm, like under the blanket. Approval.

The girl teaches her to make sounds but the weapon communicates without it. It does not like the sounds, does not need them, but the girl seems to think it’s important.

The weapon likes the girl, so the weapon learns. They still understand through no sounds, through reading each other.

The girl comes back, silently. Secretly. The weapon does not notify the owner. The weapon feels- does not want to.

The girl- the girl with the sound- she says a different sound. Her body tells the weapon that it’s important, this sound.

And when the girl points at herself and says her own sound, then points at the weapon and says that new sound again, the weapon begins to understand.

The girl had given the weapon her own sound.

“Cass—n- ra.”

“Cass,” the girl said, and Cassandra understood.

“Cass.” Cassandra pointed to herself.

The owner wanted- wanted Cassandra to end a life. Cassandra watched the owner kill and gesture to the dead thing.

Cassandra did not want to.

When Cassandra is placed back into the pitch black box, she waited for the girl.

The girl came.

“Don’t want.” Cassandra clung to her, reading the welcome and the sadness in the girl’s body. Cassandra tucked her face into the girl’s shoulder. She is cold. The girl is warm.

The girl hugged her back. The girl understood. Sadness hardened into lines of determination. Cassandra felt… light. Felt hope.

Cassandra slipped away from the place, water in her pack for the dessert and money to run from the country. The girl stayed behind, seeing her off. The girl tells her to never come back.

Cassandra did not want to leave the girl behind, but the girl could not go.

“Be free, Cass.” The girl had whispered through the pain. “For the both of us.”

——

Her grandfather knew. He allowed David Cain to break her, not kill because she was of use to him still, as a lesson. She found that she hated his lessons. But, she hated his attention more.

And still, she could not regret. How could she, when Cass trusted her with what fragile hope she had?

So, she lets him beat her, and provokes him with smirks and fearless eyes because the longer he’s focused on her, the more time Cass has to run.

Then, he gets too angry, and insults Ra’s, whose eyes grew cold. Her grandfather gestured and while she usually hated the command that followed that gesture, she could not feel that hatred now.

She got back up, legs broken and arms twisted once more, and attacked David Cain.

Ra’s would not follow Cass. Not when she was not his business to deal with, and not when David Carin’s fury amused him so.

David Cain would not follow Cass. Not while she still drew breath. The reincarnation stood, and threw herself at one of the best assassins of the century.

She tore his throat out with nothing but her teeth. She felt, for once, not like a monster. Not even when Ra’s nodded in approval and ordered for David Cain’s broken body to be cleaned up.

——

She’s been granted a mission in New Jersey, once her months of discipline- of torture- ended. She does not get ordered to find Cassandra. She’s fourteen now, and as silent as ever. Her mother had adjusted to her silence by then- long ago, actually, taking it as a quirk her daughter had developed. She hadn’t been a terribly vocal child, after all. Talia praised her for being useful even as a woman- the self degradation something the reincarnation had no doubt Ra’s had insidiously trained into Talia- and for being loyal to Ra’s.

Sometimes, she hates Talia for being- for-

Never mind. She couldn’t afford to hate anyone else.

She killed her targets early, determination and wistfulness urging her movements into sharp . Then, she made her way to Gotham and slipped into the city of darkness- where her father was.

She watched as he hid in the shadows almost as easily as she did. She watched as he flew and glided with the younger Robin. (He was younger than her by a year. She checked.) He was free. They were free.

She wished…

As she turned away, she saw a child tumbling from the edge of a roof. It was an instinct she’d thought Ra’s had managed to bury after the months he’d spent making sure she killed only children.

She hated him.

She caught him, swooping in and tucking him against her side as she plucked him from the air and plopped him back onto the crumbling roof of Gotham’s slums.

“Oh, thank you! So much- are you a vigilante?” The boy asked, looking at her masked face. It’s a good thing she wasn’t exactly dressed like a regular League operative.

She shook her head. Her eyes fell onto his camera, faint memories rising once more. She had an inkling-

“I’m- uh- Tim!” The boy introduced himself nervously, edging away from her silence. “Thank you for saving me…?”

She nodded. She pointed to the camera, tilting her head.

“Oh- you… want to see it?” He clutched his camera closer. Oh, he did have some sense of self preservation. She wondered why a seven year old was allowed to roam these streets… but she did worse at seven.

She held her hand up and back up. The boy hesitated, and then showed her the camera. “Uh- I took pictures of Robin and Batman!”

They sat on that roof for hours, and she let Tim Drake tell her stories about her father and his son. Ward. Son.

She could tell that Tim didn’t have anyone to listen to him.

She didn’t have long until she had to go back or risk severe punishment, but… she could make time for Tim, to listen to him.

She wondered if Cass managed to escape completely. She wondered if her sister all but in name and blood learned how to smile.

——

Tim had never had a friend before!

She listened to him! And gave him hugs the one time he was brave enough to ask! And she seemed to like Batman and Robin as much as he did! No one who didn’t like them would listen to his endless rambling otherwise, right? (Tim was super skinny, like ribs poking out skinny. He looked like a sickly Victorian child and he was kind of cold)

“And then, Robin went like this,” he pantomimed the awesome punch Dick Grayson did on a Joker goon. “And the guys got knocked out just like that!”

His new friend nodded, looking interested.

“Sorry, am I talking too much?” Tim asked anxiously. He didn’t want to make his friend hate him!

She shook her head, and gestured for him to continue.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded.

His new friend was so cool! She even taught him how to throw a punch and to fight!

——

When she had to leave, she prepared Tim for it.

“Do you have to go?”

She nodded and placed a hand on his head, ruffling his hair. Her other hand held a duffle bag with an assortment of weapons she carefully kept from him. (One of the blades still had guts on it, which, ew.)

“Try not to fall off anymore roofs, little photographer.” She said, smiling at his shocked look before leaping away.

“Wait, you can talk?!” He shouted at her back. She smiled a little wider.

——

“A son, this time.” Ra’s al Ghul’s voice echoed in his disgustingly flashy throne room. It rings of approval.

The reincarnation stood behind her mother, eyes cast downwards.

“Well done, Talia. I finally have a worthy heir.”

Damian al Ghul cooed.

The reincarnation was scared. But… she could not allow her younger brother to be trapped like she was. She’s fifteen now, a decade of slavery having worn her down and nearly broken her. But with her brother… no, she could not allow it.

She met her mother’s eyes and knew then that they agreed. Protect Damian, at all costs.

She ignored the sting of envy. So what her mother could not find it in herself to protect her daughter? So long as she protected Damian, it didn’t matter.

Maybe she didn’t matter. Maybe she wasn’t worth anything. Maybe- maybe- maybe.

She also ignored the seed of disgust she had for mother’s actions in conceiving Damian. She couldn’t do anything about it. Talia was also a victim.

A louder voice in her asked if she could really excuse that, when Talia had a choice and she chose to hurt and violate Bruce Wayne like that. She wondered if she could truly ever forgive Talia. She wondered if Bruce Wayne got therapy.

——

She stared at the tome in front of her, eyes blank. (Actually, she had no eyes. Like? Empty sockets, but then later she had eyes???)

The brand- the shackles- the chains could only be broken if Ra’s died. She wasn’t opposed to that. But if he died, so did she. She couldn’t even kill herself to get out, because the chains would be there even if she died. If she was revived- a high chance, thanks to the fucking pits- then the chains would still be there.

Perhaps… she could use the pits?

Her mind turned and turned.

——

“This is your ukht.” Her mother pointed at her. Damian stared up at her, and she melted. Her brother was too damn cute.

“Ukhti?”

She nodded as her mother smiled in joy. “Yes, habibi.”

She was better at hiding the pain, now. She was better at enduring it, too, that fucking burning feeling. She spoke more, but only to Damian.

It would not do for her brother to grow up not knowing how to receive verbal expressions of affection. Not like she did, in this life.

Still, it hurt to speak. But then, she had an idea, based on Cassandra.

She could not speak, but speaking wasn’t the only way of communication. She’ll teach Damian sign language- standard, as commanded- but also her own version. Yes, she could do it. It wouldn’t be hard.

She was a genius, after all, and creating languages wasn’t as hard as people seem to think.

——

Damian copied her, small fingers patting his hand four times.

She did it back to him. “I love you.” She tells him, with sounds and with motions.

He does it back, excitedly, because he had a secret with ukhti!

——

Sometimes, she dared not to touch Damian. She wants to ruffle his hair and give him hugs but the ichor on her hands reminds her to not get to greedy. She did not deserve it.

Not when her hands were stained with the lives of so many people.

——

Another mission.

She was twenty now, and not much closer to escaping her bonds. Though, once she hit her majority, Ra’s lost interest in her in that way. A blessing, even if she had to seduce his “business partners” into giving him better deals more often now.

She stops by Bludhaven. The Robin she watched so many years ago- six, by her count- had grown new wings and moved. She wanted to see if he could fly still.

He could. He flew as free- no, freer than his days as Robin.

She dipped away to complete her mission (nuclear weapon trading, really?) and swings back to see a spider trying to break the former Robin’s wings.

“No.” Nightwing whispered, staring upwards at the cloudy sky blankly. “Please, stop.”

She didn’t need to hear any more. She saw red, and dove feet first straight onto the spider’s head, knocking her out.

She picked up a near-catatonic Nightwing, and helped him to his apartment. She left Tarantula in the rain and felt zero guilt about it.

He changed mechanically, some kind of instinct keeping him from removing his domino, but it was a bit pointless considering she escorted him to his personal apartment.

She watched as Nightwing slipped into an exhausted sleep before leaving. She had a spider to squish, and traces to hide.

——

Dick wakes up, drained and exhausted. He… someone saved him.

He sees a scrawled note, handwriting impeccable enough to be a font, written with his pen. He picked it up from his table, and his eyes tiredly read the message.

“Don’t worry about Tarantula. Or your identity.”- A friend.

He remembered- the mask- the mask of the stranger that saved him vividly. He’d remember. And he’d thank them if they ever came back.

——

She was in charge of training assassins, these days. A year and a half later after Bludhaven, she was back in Nanda Parbat, and she’s devoured every magical tome she could get her hands on. They all say the same things.

Her assassins were trained well, and Ra’s praises her with more responsibilities as he followed the pit in his obsessions. Her mother began to splinter the group, not knowing that as Ra’s began his descent into madness, people looked towards her instead of Talia for leadership. They did not know that her unwavering presence by Ra’s side wasn’t voluntary but it is their true that she became his right hand out of pure skill. And flawless obedience, of course.

Then, someone new joins.

Someone with pit rage and empty eyes that goes rigid when she approaches.

Then again, most of the operatives freeze up when she walks towards them.

Her memories roar. A child.

He bowed, and her eyes followed the streak of white hair at the forefront of his skull.

She gestured at him to follow, and ignored the pitiful eyes the rest of the assassins gave to the kid- they act like her training was hard when she went easy on them (it was)- and led the kid towards the training rooms.

She knew who he was, even if her grandfather and mother didn’t think she knew.

Her… Bruce Wayne would probably appreciate his son being returned relatively sane.

But first, she had to beat the Pit out of him. Then, she could assign body guarding duties to him, in an attempt to protect him.

——

“Grandfather, I will take Damian’s punishment.”

“A whipping girl, granddaughter?” But he nodded anyways. He made Damian watch.

She kneeled and allowed the punishment. She couldn’t always protect him from Ra’s, but this she could do anytime. It’s not like she was unfamiliar with the torture. (The whip had barbs. Rusty. And they sprinkled salt.)

——

“I liked poetry….” Jason Todd tells her after a training session. “I think.”

“Sure. I’ll call you Grave, then.” Pain. But she was used to it.

He tilted his head, eyes going blank once more. She sighed. There went his memories again. (His eyes were blank and glazed. Like looking at someone you love and knowing they’re looking through you.)

——

“I would not trust her,” she says to the air, next to a Red Hood emerging from Talia al Ghul’s chambers. She could see it, the beginnings of Gotham’s new crime lord. But still, “Talia al Ghul is known for her lies.”

She pushed away from the wall. It was up to Grave if he listened. It was out of her hands now.

——

She’s twenty-five, and she’s helping Damian pack for his first meeting with Bruce Wayne.

“You must not tell him about me.” Because he’d come rushing here, and she had worked too hard to save Damian for her fool of a father to come and ruin all of that effort.

“I promise.” Her little brother said solemnly. Ukhti said it out loud, which meant it was important and she expected him to keep that promise.

The only other time he’d heard her speak was to tell him she loved him.

The reincarnation smiled and told him through their special sign language, to treat the current Robin with respect and to try his best to get the current Robin to pass down his title.

‘Robin is earned. They have different rules, over there. Try your best to learn those rules.’

Her brother was sheltered. She loved him, but he was spoilt and sheltered. Of course she was worried. Talia barely mothered him.

“I know. You do not have to remind me so often, ukhti.”

She smiled, and patted his head.

“Be safe,” she whispered. “I will miss you.”

Damian darted in for a hug. “Of course. Goodbye, sister. See you soon.”

She hoped not. It was hard enough to convince Ra’s that Damian would learn more under Bruce Wayne.

(She was locked in a small closet- like Cass- for about a week, because she brought up the idea first.)

——

She found it.

The answer to pit rage laid in an old, all but crumbling tome from Atlantis- answers “from a ghost.”

——

Bruce Wayne died. Months after Damian came to live with him. That- irritating- she sighed and worked with her mother to turn Ra’s al Ghul’s attention away from Gotham, lest he called Damian back in Bruce Wayne’s absence.

The little photographer caught grandfather’s attention. She stood vigil as he played chess with Ra’s. His interest in Damian wavered. Anticipation blurred in her veins.

She saved his friends. Her assassins. She let them go, telling them to wait for the little photographer’s plan. (Y’all miss girl had fucking bloody handprints on her pants like someone tried to grab it.)

The first few people who had an inking she might not be loyal to Ra’s… and it was them.

When her other assassins attacked Red Robin, she cut them down before they could touch him, helping him with a furious League of Spiders or whatever operative. She hated spiders.

“What…?”

“You’re a lot of trouble, little photographer.” She sighed. His jaw dropped.

“It’s you!”

“Go,” she cut him off. “Blow this place up. I left a surprise for you outside.”

——

“Owens?! Z?!” Tim trembled, exhaustion and shock and wonder hitting him at once.

“Heya, boss!” Z chirped. Owens helped Tim up while Z helped Tam. Pry walked around them, looking out for further threats. “The nightmare trainer let us go. She knew you, I think.”

Tim smiles, all shark teeth and zero hero. (In the background, the song zero to hero from Hercules 2, played in reverse.) “Tell me more.”

——

Damian grunted, bracing himself for the magical creature’s attack.

“Robin!” His father barked out, panicked. Damian hoped he’d survive-

Shhhlk!

He looked up and there stood his ukht. She bounded forwards, using the odd fauna of the magical plane to bolster her movements as she sliced the creatures apart with her swords, magic humming brightly as she cut through them… and the magicians attacking them.

“What- what are you doing here?” He asked. She greeted him, three fingers curled over her shoulder.

‘My question is,’ she signed. ‘Why were you here without a magical weapon.’

Damian sighed as father stepped in between them.

“Who are you.”

“Batman. Cease your excessive worry. I trust her with my life,” Damian snapped. He stepped around a shocked Batman, looked him in the eyes, and unsheathed his katana. He handed it over to his ukht, who took it with amusement.

‘See?’ His eyes seemed to say. Father tensed when his sister unsheathed her own blade and handed it to him.

‘Are you here for a specific reason?’ His sister signed to him.

“Uh, you gonna introduce us, little man?”

Damian sent the Flash a derisive look and ignored him.

“We’re looking for a magician. He set a squadron of demons loose into D.C. last night. He has a tower.” Damian added.

“Robin,” Father growled. “Who is this.” Damian shot him a look and turned back to his sister.

The reincarnation tilted her head. ‘Tower… it’ll have to be that way.’

“Could you take us there?” Damian asked. Truthfully, he could find the way himself. But he wanted more time around his ukht. She nodded and Damian straightened.

“I feel like we should be concerned that Robin’s friend just murdered a bunch of people.”

His sister glanced back and ignored them.

“Silence, incompetents. Speak another word against her, and Batman’s no killing rule will be applied creatively.” He hissed. (The fucking surroundings hissed with him y’all what the fuck)

He turned when his sister ruffled his hair (Superman muttered a super shocked “what the fuck.”) and Damian allowed it. He had missed his sister.

——

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penofwildfire · 26 days

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ALRIGHT I FINISHED DRS2PT1 AND I HAVE. SO MANY FUCKING THOUGHTS. SPOILERS (in all caps) BELOW THE CUT.

CINDER IS SO HOT OH MY GOD. HE'S SUCH AN ASSHOLE BUT LIKE. I WANT HIM. I NEED HIM. HELP.

OKAY COLE AND GEO ARE CANON RIGHT? RIGHT? LIKE AT LEAST CANONICALLY INTO EACHOTHER RIGHT? GEO'S IN LOVE WITH COLE FOR SURE.

BONZLE OH MY GOD BONZLE. I REALLY DIDN'T CARE ABOUT HER IN SEASON 1, NEVER THOUGHT SHE'D BE RELEVANT BUT HOLY SHIT I LOVE HER SO MUCH. PRECIOUS PRECIOUS GIRL. I NEED HER TO COME BACK PLEASE. COLE MUST BE DEVASTATED. HE'S GOTTA TELL THE OTHERS ABOUT THIS. OUCH.

KAI AND NYA SIBLING DYNAMIC OH HO HO HO I AM INSANE ABOUT THAT. THE FLASHBACK. THE BANTER. THEY LOVE EACHOTHER SO FUCKING MUCH. EVERYONE HERE LOVES EACHOTHER SO MUCH. KAI BETTER FUCKING COME BACK TOO.

THE JAY SCENE OH MY GOOOODDDDDDDDDDD AHHAHAJJSKAKKDK I SHRIEKED. SQUEALED. PROBABLY STARTLED THE NEIGHBORS. HOLYY FUUUUUUUCK I NEED MORE IN PART 2. AND NYA'S FEAR VISION OF HIM NOT REMEMBERING HER OH THAT'S GONNA PAY OFF BIG TIME.

LIL BABY RAS AAHAHAHSJFKSKKAHAHAJSKAK

GANDALARIA IS AWESOME SHE'S INSANE I LOVE HER. SHE'S SO QUEER I DON'T KNOW HOW YET BUT I'M LEANING TOWARDS PANSEXUAL TRANSFEM.

ARIN AND SORA FRIENDSHIP IS EVERYTHING TO ME AND POOR ARIN HAVING A HARD TIME IS JUST AJAJHSHJDJKKALAJDJHJWIWOQPWOAHFHJGJKS I'M LOWKEY IMAGINING A VILLAIN ARC. COULD HAPPEN. WOULD BE COOL. HIS GUILT ABOUT HIS PARENTS IS REALLY FUCKING HIM UP.

THE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT OF LIKE. LIKE THEY SAID THE WORDS "MENTAL HEALTH" AND "PANIC ATTACK" THAT'S WILD TO ME. OLD NINJAGO WOULD NEVER LOL. LLOYD IS NOT OKAY THIS SEASON JESUS CHRIST.

ZANE WITH THE FCUKIN FROHICKY PLUSHIE IS EVERYTHING TO ME I LOVE THAT GODDAMN FROG SO MUCH.

JORDANA IS SO SO SILLAY AND I'M WORRIED ABOUT HER. SHE WAS. PRETTY BEAT UP AND FREAKY AT THE END THERE.

THE AMOUNT OF TIMES I SCREAMED ABOUT SOMETHING AND SHOOK AND HYPERVENTILATED DAMN THIS SHOW DOES SHIT TO ME. AUTISM. REFERENCING THE SPINJITZU BROTHER'S BOOKS TOO LIKE AJAHHAJAJJDJAKKSK

anyway sorry for the all-caps rant but it's the only way to express my feelings right now oh my god I need part 2 PRONTO AHAJJSKAKAAKAALA

#ninjago #dragons rising #ninjago dr #dragons rising s2 #dragons rising spoilers #ninjago spoilers #caps tw #ninjago dr spoilers

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jayflrt · 2 years

Text

strawberry lemonade

❝ praying mantises sound a lot more peaceful than listening to reenactments of fifty shades of grey every other night. ❞

PAIRING ▸ park jongseong x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ smut (minors dni), crack, college au, lowkey pwp but there is plot sorry this was just the jay brainrot acting up

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, sex, slight exhibition kink, fingering, oral (fem. receiving), praise & degradation, pet names because i am a weak woman, sunghoon (fun guy) collects preying mantises??

SUMMARY ▸ you and jay park are bound by fate; or, rather, you're bound by your respective roommates who have obnoxiously loud sex every other night. it's only a matter of time until you give them a taste of their own medicine.

or, revenge is best served with a strawberry lemonade lollipop.

WORD COUNT ▸ 3,482 words

PLAYLIST ▸ lolly by maejor, juicy j, justin bieber • high off you by alayna • candy by doja cat • kickin’ back by mila j

TAG LIST ▸ @msxflower @fiantomartell @baekhyunstruly @mykalon @heelariously @hobistigma @simplyxlea @wntrsgf @person-standing @ja4hyvn @dnyamight @candidupped @shmooooo @pr0dbeomgyu @sunshine-skz @hiqhkey @kp0p10v3r2 @baekhyuns-lipchain @jagyuuar

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ the first modern lollipop was created in 1908. it has been an uneventful 114 years of its creation until a video spread yesterday of park jongseong sucking on one. as a result, user jayflrt woke up in a cold sweat to write this in one sitting.

IT WAS A FRIDAY NIGHT.

You were currently reporting a criminal (Kim Minjeong) to the authorities (Lee Heeseung).

To be fair, you weren’t actually reporting your roommate to your apartment floor’s resident advisor. She was at her boyfriend’s apartment today, and you were just venting your frustration from the previous night.

Heeseung was just someone you complained to about these things, but never with the intention of getting anyone in trouble. You knew he was good at keeping secrets, so, unless you said otherwise, he wouldn’t confront the people causing problems. (This, of course, went against his sole responsibility as an RA, but people let that slide because he had a pretty face and baked cookies for everyone on Saturdays.)

You got along with Minjeong very well, actually. Although you two were randomly paired together, you clicked the moment you met in the beginning of the school year. You got locked out of your apartment the first night, and when you texted Minjeong for help, she ended up getting locked out, too. The both of you waited until dawn to get a replacement key, and it marked the beginning of a strong friendship.

The only issue was that Minjeong recently started dating Jake Sim, who happened to be your neighbor. In the first few weeks of school, your entire floor mingled and socialized a lot, so you got along very well with the people around you. Jake and Minjeong seemed to hit it off really well, so it was no surprise that they ended up dating.

However, what was surprising was your roommate’s ability to moan at such high volumes every other night.

“Maybe you should confront her about it,” Heeseung offered. It was a stupid suggestion; you were going to kill him.

“I’ve tried!” you whined. “She said she would be quieter and soundproof her room. Guess what? Egg cartons aren’t doing me any favors!”

“I would not wanna have sex in a room full of egg cartons.”

Before you could retort, there was a knock at Heeseung’s door. You looked at him quizzically. Heeseung was terrible at job, so it didn’t make sense for anyone to actually come for help. When he opened the door, though, it all made sense.

Jake’s roommate and your group therapy partner, Jay Park.

In the beginning of the year, you and Jay didn’t get to talk much. You, of course, took notice of him (because it was hard to ignore good-looking men), but neither of you made the effort to become friends. He intimidated you at first, and it was probably because of his sharp features and piercing gaze. The only things that softened his image for you were his classic strawberry lemonade Jolly Rancher lollipops. He should seriously be sponsored by the company; you had seen him sucking on the candy at least once a day.

Naturally, you two got closer after your respective roommates started seeing each other. This wasn’t because you naturally gravitated toward each other or anything. You both would just find yourselves running to Heeseung’s room to complain about your situations, and you both developed mutual sympathy.

It was fun getting to hang around Jay, though. If you had a second chance, you would have tried to actively befriend him before, but you weren’t mad with how things ended up.

“You know, I should’ve fucking roomed with Sunghoon instead,” Jay spat, storming into Heeseung’s room with an unwrapped strawberry lemonade Jolly Rancher lollipop in his fist. He angrily tore the wrapper off and shoved it into his mouth. “One minute I’m writing my history paper, and next I hear the second coming of Christ from Jake’s room. Do those two have the sex drive of bonobos?”

(“You’ve been watching Planet Earth again, haven’t you?” you inquired, recalling him watching rerun episodes in the common room while he was high off his ass.

Jay shot you a glance. “None of your business, Y/N.”)

“I thought you said you would rather die than room with Sunghoon,” Heeseung said.

You frowned. “Park Sunghoon? What’s wrong with him?”

“He collects praying mantises,” Jay explained. “Fun guy, but it’s a bit terrifying.”

“Praying mantises sound a lot more peaceful than listening to reenactments of Fifty Shades of Grey every other night,” you muttered. “Is Sunghoon taking roommate applications?”

“You guys just need to drive them out or something,” Heeseung suggested. “Maybe give them a taste of their own medicine.”

The three of you fell silent for a moment, processing Heeseung’s words.

If you were understanding him correctly, there was a clear sexual undertone in his words—hell, it was hardly considered an undertone with how overt it sounded. You weren’t sure what Jay was thinking about, but Heeseung’s suggestion led you to think of you and Jay having obnoxiously loud sex to get back at your roommates. The very thought made your cheeks burn.

You were 100% sure that Jay would not be on board with this idea. It was absurd to even think about having sex with him for the sake of leveling out the playing field. Plus, you would be crazy if you thought that Jay would want to sleep with you in the first place.

This was when you deemed it proper to obliterate Lee Heeseung.

“That is the worst idea I’ve ever heard,” you replied.

“Heeseung, you’re a genius,” Jay said at the same time.

So maybe you and Jay were not, in fact, on the same page.

You both looked at each other, both confused for different reasons. You were gaping at him like an idiot, and he was looking at you like you were crazy for refusing. Heeseung, meanwhile, was just glad that his suggestion was 50% accepted.

“D-doesn’t that mean we’d have to, um… have sex?” you asked, trying your best not to stammer as you spoke.

Jay laid his cards out flat. “We have fake sex.”

Now, you and Heeseung were completely lost. You being confused was one thing, but Heeseung being confused about his own plan was another thing.

“Fake sex?” Heeseung spoke up. He narrowed his eyes, trying to make sense of what Jay was saying before he shook his head. “You know what? Nevermind. You two should leave and figure it out yourselves. I’d rather not be part of this conversation, so go decide amongst yourselves if you’re gonna have… fake sex, or chill with Sunghoon’s preying mantises or whatever.”

“C’mon, you don’t wanna hear about our faux sexcapade?” Jay teased, but Heeseung was already pushing you two out the door. “I guess that’s a no,” he said as the RA closed the door on their faces. Jay turned back to you with newfound confidence. “So, fake sex!”

You raised a brow, staring at his lips because you were a whore. He was so close that you could detect the faint scent of his strawberry lemonade lollipop.

“What exactly does fake sex entail?”

“You know, pretending we’re having sex so that they get the message and start shutting the fuck up,” Jay explained. “All you have to do is moan like you’re having the time of your life.”

Jay’s room was a few doors down the hall. You two were far too close to actually putting this plan into action. You hated admitting it, but it was actually a solid plan; you were sure that Minjeong and Jake would get the message if they experienced what it was like to be in your shoes. Plus, they were in Jake’s room right now, so it was the perfect opportunity for you and Jay to teach them a lesson.

You didn’t have any reason to say no. There was nothing cheesy holding you back like the fear of ruining your friendship with Jay. In fact, you had always thought Jay was insanely attractive, especially when he was sucking on that lollipop of his. Even though this was a sham, you were probably being given the opportunity of a lifetime.

“Are you totally sure about this?” you asked. “You really think they’re gonna be quieter if we do this?”

“I’m positive.”

This was the stupidest idea of your life. You supposed it didn’t matter, though, considering you were pretty stupid anyway.

“Fine,” you agreed. “Let’s do it.”

After more discussion and preparation for your scheme, you and Jay found yourselves in his room thirty minutes later. You had never been with him in his room alone before, and it was a little pathetic that your first time visiting was to partake in a fake sex ploy. His room was surprisingly neat and tidy, though, but you realized that it was probably because Jake always nagged him to clean.

Just as you thought, the muffled sounds from Minjeong and Jake were audible as they were a wall away. You were genuinely impressed that their stamina didn’t let up. It had been a long time since you had hooked up with someone, but you were certain you wouldn’t be able to last that long.

When you looked at Jay, he gave you a silent gesture to commence the plan.

You balked, feeling embarrassed already. Taking a deep breath, you steeled your nerves. You had to commit to the role if you wanted to succeed. You weren’t sure if you could take yourself seriously, but, willing your voice not to go shaky, you let out an exaggerated cry.

“Oh, Jay!” you moaned out. “You’re so fucking big!”

“Chill. You sound like a Euphoria character.”

“I have to Maddy Perez it up if I want them to take the hint!” you whispered back, harsher than you intended, but Jay received the message well.

“F-fuck! You’re so wet.” Jay’s voice broke at the end, immediately covering his face with his hand. You snorted, trying not to break into a fit of laughter, and Jay shot you a threatening look. He was failing miserably, though, because his face was completely red. “God, you’re so… tight?” Jay groaned into his hands. “I’m gonna kill myself.”

“Louder,” you instructed. “Bolder.”

“It’s embarrassing!”

“It was your idea!” You tutted and got on top of his bed, kneeling on one of the pillows. “Watch this: Jay—oh!—you’re so fucking hot! Keep fucking me like that!”

The plan was definitely working. You were hearing less sounds from Jake’s room, and their moans were definitely dying down. When you looked back at Jay to see if he understood your little lesson, you were surprised to see that he was redder than ever.

“You know, I think you’re better at this than I am,” Jay said, “even if you do sound kind of stupid.”

“Hey!” you exclaimed. “You have to milk the performance to get them to shut up, you know?” You turned back to face the wall that separated Jay and Jake’s room, crying out, “Fuck! Jay, give it to me!”

“You sound so fake.”

You scowled. “You’re not even helping!”

“You want my help?” Jay hummed, walking over to you. “Yeah, let’s make this act more believable.”

Before you could respond, Jay slid his hand between your legs and started rubbing the apex of your shorts. You gasped at the sudden contact, feeling your knees buckle under you. Jay slid his free arm around your waist and slid his hand under your shirt to feel you up. Even with his thumb planted on your clothed clit, you were still trying to process what the fuck had just happened.

“Why’re you so quiet all of a sudden?” Jay asked. “Shouldn’t you be moaning? Keep it going, Y/N. You were so good at sounding like such a slut earlier.”

You were getting more and more wet, and you were sure Jay noticed it, too. His rubbing turned from teasing to fervent, and before you knew it, he had pushed you down on his bed and started pulling down your shorts. Well, rather, you started taking them off yourself and let him help you.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked, gripping your thighs as he eyed the thin fabric of your underwear. “You’re the star actress here, so you decide. Fingers or mouth?”

You eyed the strawberry lemonade lollipop that was still in his mouth. “Both?”

Jay chuckled. “You really are needy, aren’t you?”

Taking the sweet out of his mouth, he placed it on top of the wrapper on his desk. You thought he would just throw the whole thing away, but you supposed your neighbor didn’t like being wasteful.

Jay practically tore your underwear off, immediately planting his thumb on your clit and rubbing small, precise circles around the ball of nerves. You were whimpering under his touch, screwing your eyes shut when he bent down to lick a long stripe along your folds.

He pulled away to plunge two fingers into your soaking cunt, pleased with how your walls were contracting around his digits. Although, Jay was still unsatisfied by your lack of volume, so he started sucking on your clit as he scissored his fingers inside of you.

“O-oh my god—fuck!” you cried out, immediately slapping a hand over your mouth right after a moan tore itself from your throat. Closing your eyes, you continued to let out muffled moans with your hand blocking the sounds.

Jay was clearly not satisfied with this.

He pulled away with a sigh, tearing you away from the building orgasm that was yet to release. You felt a bit angry when it dissipated, shooting Jay a dirty look. All he did, though, was smirk at your reaction, and that made you feel more flustered.

You supposed it was his way of making it up to you, but Jay ducked his head down to move in for a kiss. He sealed his lips over yours, kissing you slowly and deepening it with each passing second. It grew more hot, languid, and messy, and your tongues were both desperately sliding against each other.

His lips were so warm and soft against yours. It was if you were under a spell when they were pressed to yours, making you lose all sense of control. All you could do was wrap your arms around his neck and draw him closer. You threw your leg around his hip, aching for more contact, more friction.

When Jay pulled back for air, he chuckled lowly. “What’d that taste like?” he asked.

You licked your lips before answering shyly, “Strawberry lemonade.”

He smiled and kissed you again, this time slower and more passionate. You closed your eyes and held his cheek as his lips moved in perfect unison with yours. You had been kissed before, but never like this. Something about Jay was so intoxicating in the very way he carried himself, and now, you felt weak at his very touch.

He pulled away to ghost his lips down the column of your neck. “Want me to fuck you?”

You whined, tugging at the front of his shirt. Every nerve in your body was screaming for him to just touch you all over and split you apart.

“That’s not enough, doll.” He mocked a pout, feigning sympathy. “Use your words. You were all talk before I started touching you, hm? What happened to that?”

“Jay,” you whimpered.

“Yes?”

“I… I want you to fuck me.”

“Louder,” he mocked, grinning at you. “Bolder.”

You whined. “Just fuck me already!”

Seemingly satisfied, Jay started unbuttoning his pants, yanking them down and kicking them off from where they pooled at his ankles. You sat up to peel off your shirt as he scoured through his nightstand for condoms. When he found one, he used his teeth to open the wrapper, taking the rubber out and sliding it onto his cock with a few pumps.

He was nothing short of impressive. You were already weak at the sight of his rippling abs and the mouthwatering size of his cock. His ego was inflating higher and higher when he caught sight of you drooling over him.

“Lay down,” he instructed. “You asked me to give it to you earlier, so you’re gonna take every single inch of me.”

Your heartbeat was going crazy—both of them.

When you were flat on his bed, Jay got over you and started pressing open-mouthed kisses along your neck and collarbone. You whimpered, sliding your hand into his hair for leverage, but that hardly helped when he slipped his hand under your bra to grope your chest.

He pulled his hand away to reach behind you, undoing the clip of your bra with one snap. You were honestly jealous; you couldn’t even undo your own bra that quickly.

Once you discarded your bra, tossing it to the floor along with the rest of your clothes, Jay started leaving hot kisses around your nipple. Then, he sucked on your hard nipple itself, leaving you a moaning mess while heat pricked your skin.

“You wet enough for me?” he mumbled against your skin.

You nodded, and oh god, you were dripping for him. “Please, please, please just give it to me.”

Jay pushed himself inside of you, and the simultaneous moans that fell from both of your lips was almost beautiful. He held your hips firmly and rubbed slow circles with his thumb as he eased himself inside of you, adjusting to the tight squeeze of your cunt. You cried at how tight you were, digging your nails into his back and burying your face in his shoulder.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he grunted. “For real, this time.” (You despised how he had to specify that.)

Jay bottomed out inside you, and the feeling of his cock filling you up left tears welling up in your eyes. Unexpectedly, Jay immediately wiped at your tears and pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, whispering a sweet apology as he waited for you to adjust to his length.

“O-oh fuck—right there,” you begged once his cock hit that perfect spot right under your cervix.

“Here?” he asked, thrusting in and out of you to get to that sweet spot again.

There must be nothing Jay couldn’t do because he found it almost immediately, taking your choked sob as a sign that he struck gold. The bed creaked and shook as Jay tried to find a proper rhythm, and you were starting to forget your original reason for being here as you moaned and sobbed under him. His thrusts were so purposeful and precise, intending to make you see stars as he pinned you down and fucked you into the mattress.

You babbled something incoherent—something about how close you were, but you were sure Jay picked up on the message by how your legs were starting to shake.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he cooed into your ear, “give it to me.”

Your orgasm was blinding. The preamble of heat blooming under your skin was hardly enough to prepare you for the intense pleasure that started coursing through your body. You were drowning in a sea of molten lava, hardly able to ground yourself as Jay fucked you through your orgasm. He had to grip your hand to remind you that you were still with him, still in the bedroom in his apartment.

Your cunt must have been pulsing around his cock too tightly in the meanwhile because Jay reached his high, too, cumming inside you with a little groan. He sighed, relieved, and pulled out of you so that he could toss out the condom.

“You okay?” he asked, pushing your hair back when you seemed to have recuperated. “You were so, so good for me.”

“Do… do you think we were loud enough?” you asked in a small voice. This couldn’t be part of the act, but you were still scared that Jay would pretend nothing happened.

He snorted. “I think they left a long time ago when I actually started fucking you.” He shifted so that he was holding you in his arms, spooning you and letting his breath tickle your neck. “By the way, I’ve been meaning to make a move on you for a while now.”

“You have?”

“Yeah, but it was kinda hard when Heeseung was always there.”

You giggled, turning to face him. “Maybe you should stop talking about Sunghoon and his praying mantises. That’s not really an effective method to hit on a girl, you know?”

Jay cupped his hand over your mouth. “Shhh,” he silenced you. “I don’t wanna hear it from the girl who needs our incompetent RA to help her with her roommate problems.”

“You do the same thing!” you defended, though your voice was muffled.

“Like I said: shhh.” Jay chuckled. “Plus, now we can just go over to each other’s place when they decide to start going at it like rabbits.”

“You’re right,” you said once you pried Jay’s hand away. “I have one requirement, though.”

“What is it?”

“You’re sharing that strawberry lemonade lollipop next time.”

#enhypen imagines #jay imagines #jay smut #enhypen smut #jay x reader #enhypen hard hours #jay hard hours #enhypen oneshots #jay oneshots #enhypen scenarios #jay scenarios #jay park #park jongseong #park jongseong x reader #jongseong smut #jongseong imagines #jay park x reader

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swearyshera · 8 months

Text

Thank you!

This may end up being a long, rambly post because I'm a little emotional. But bear with me.

I am so incredibly thankful for all the love you've sent this week, and it humbles me to realise how much this silly little parody blog meant to people. Thank you for reading, liking, reblogging, commenting, asking, going absolutely unhinged in the tags... I read them all, and they've spurred me to keep going through 32 months, over 5000 posts, 40GB of screenshots and the wildest, most brilliant time of my life.

I'd love to thank people individually, but there's so many of you that I would inevitably miss someone out and that seems unfair! But I will say a special thank you to the She-Ra Uncut team, who I'm proud to consider some of the greatest friends I've made through this fandom, and whether we make many wonderful things, or never make anything again, I hope we can consider each other friends for life.

(Sob story time, feel free to skip!) In 2015, I had a huge breakdown. I was off work for 8 months, in hospital for a week, had therapy twice a week for a year... It was fucking awful. And though I got better, I never really felt like I had a reason to, and that I was just treading water until the darkness came back with vengeance. Then, as She-Ra ended, I made some silly posts that ended up as Etheria Nine-Nine, which led me onto what would become Sweary She-Ra. I had no idea how much this would change my life.

The response to this blog led me to write a script for a She-Ra Uncut trailer, and I loved it. I wrote more and developed a love for the craft, that I wanted to continue. It became a joy, and gave me a dream for the first time I could remember. So I kept writing, I kept learning and improving. In September 2022, I was sat in the Lowry theatre in Salford surrounded by the laughter of an audience watching a play that I wrote. That was the most incredible feeling of my life.

And I wouldn't have had that without thinking "Catra should be allowed to say fuck".

So while, it may be over (and it was pointed out to me that Sweary She-Ra ran for longer than the actual show did!), it's hopefully not the end. I'm very keen to make an audio sequel if I can, maybe several, and I'm not going to disappear into the ether. And hey, I don't know what the future will bring.

But there is a future.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you, everyone.

Alice.

(PS - Hi Crew-Ra, if you're reading this as I maybe suspect one or two of you may be. I am sorry but also not sorry, but also hire me when the strikes are over 😁. Thank you for making She-Ra, I love you!)

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ragnarokhound · 1 month

Note

((you don’t have to do both if you don’t want to, you can consider this one a back up / alt))

“If you don’t know where to go, you can always come here.” 💞

From this writing prompt list i reblogged in...november lmao fljdsjfa

anyway this grew legs and sprinted away the second I picked it up yesterday - clearly it just needed some time to proof lmao. Thank you for the ask, tauria!! From *checks watch* almost 5 months ago fjdslafjsa I will be cross-posting it to Ao3 in my new oneshot collection fic :)

Warnings for: Vague allusions that Ra's Al Ghul is a creep (what else is new), threats of gun violence, canon-typical violence

15. “If you don’t know where to go, you can always come here.”

When Tim arrived in Gotham this morning, he had no way of knowing that his day would end in Jason Todd’s bed.

Frankly, he wasn’t really sure what bed he’d end up in— because his own certainly wasn’t an option right now. But If he had to pick, Jason Todd’s was somewhere near the bottom of whatever list he’d make.

He didn’t exactly plan on this, okay?

But, uh. Let’s back up a little.

—

Tim knew his day was going to go to shit when he got back from the airport at 7 AM.

He had his driver drop him off two blocks away from his townhouse for the sake of caffeine at the hole in the wall place he likes. Wealthy CEO he may be, but a sixteen hour flight is still a sixteen hour flight and Tim is cursed with an inability to sleep in the air.

Don’t ask. He’s tried. It doesn’t work.

So he wants coffee, and he wants a shower, and he wants his own bed. In that order.

With the first thing on his list acquired and blessedly burning his tongue, he managed to tug his brain cells together enough to realize that the building they’d passed that had been shrouded in tents and canvas was his building.

"What's going on here?"

The worker outside his building looks up from her clipboard, her face wrinkling into apprehensive confusion.

"Hello, sir. Can I help you?”

He hasn’t slept in roughly seventy two hours. He is not awake or patient enough for this.

“My name is Tim Drake. I own this building. What’s going on here?” He repeats.

The woman raises her eyebrows and looks down at her clipboard again. “Mr. Drake?” She questions, clearly expecting him to look like a grown-ass man and not a sleep-deprived college student coming home from spring break or whatever.

“Yes. Timothy Drake-Wayne. Why are you—” he tries to gesture with the hand still holding his suitcase handle, walking towards the tarps and tents erected around his townhouse with increasing trepidation, “—here?”

“I’m sorry sir, but you can’t go in there. Not for at least forty-eight hours.”

Tim stops in his tracks.

“Forty-eight—?”

“We've been scheduled to fumigate the property today.” She says it like she’s reading it out of a handbook. “It won't be safe to enter the building for at least forty-eight hours. You should have received prior notice. Uh. Sir.”

Tim's jet-lagged brain kicks into overdrive.

Bruce hasn't made any disappointed noises about Tim’s perfectly normal work ethic lately so it probably wasn't a misguided attempt at benching him. And besides, rendering Tim’s apartment inaccessible is counterproductive on that front.

Dick wouldn’t. They haven’t been exactly— great, lately but he wouldn’t. Besides, if he wanted to get Tim out of the house more, he’d show up to drag Tim out into the daylight himself. This is a little too roundabout for him.

It’s too much work to be Steph. She would think it’s funny, but there’s no way she’d follow through.

Damian might, but this doesn’t quite fit his preferred methods for making Tim’s life hell. It could be some cloak and dagger maneuver to leave him vulnerable, faking a complaint to the city so he’ll—

And then Tim thinks about the call.

The call he’d brushed off at fuck o’clock in the morning somewhere over Europe, too busy with another project. The call his secretary took for him instead. He thinks about the distracted confirmation he’d given to whatever it was she’d asked him about five minutes later.

He also thinks about the form he signed about two weeks ago, before this last minute trip to Hong Kong had consumed his entire attention. The one with “Two Weeks Notice” stamped across the top. His stomach sinks.

“Today,” he repeats.

She looks apologetic. “Today,” she confirms. “And we just started about an hour ago. I’m very sorry, Mr. Drake-Wayne but—”

"No it's—" he says through gritted teeth, "fine. I'll just. Make other arrangements."

—

He does not make other arrangements. Though not for lack of trying.

Tim has a handful of safehouses scattered throughout the city. He has options. He gets a taxi to the closest neighborhood, and nearly falls asleep in the backseat. The cabby has to knock on the glass divider to get his attention when they come to a stop. He grumbles and hauls his suitcase out of the backseat, and tips the man excessively.

Shower. Bed. Sleep. He’s so close he could cry.

Except when he finally rolls around the block, coffee half gone and trying to remember if this safehouse is the one with in-unit laundry or if he’ll have to haul his shit down to the laundry room, his building is a blackened husk with police tape all around it.

He stops on the sidewalk. He peers up at the window of his unit, squinting at the peeling black wood and shattered glass. He ponders whether two is enough data points to be considered a pattern. And whether he could get away with napping in the alley on this street or if that’ll end with him stabbed and robbed.

As he’s pondering, he catches sight of a passerby and stops him.

“‘Scuse me,” he says apologetically. “What the hell happened here?”

The guy looks up from his phone and takes in his rumpled clothes, his suitcase, and the scorched remains of his apartment.

“Oh, uh. Yeah, there was a big fire about a week back? Bad fire. Took out, like, half the block. Cops are saying it’s arson.”

“A week ago,” Tim repeats. The guy’s eyes widen.

“Oh shit, bro, did you live here?”

“I’ve been out of town,” he explains numbly.

“Dude, that sucks. And right in the middle of con’ season. Good luck finding a hotel!”

“Yeah,” Tim sighs as the guy walks away. “Thanks.”

—

The next safehouse he tries isn’t in much better shape.

He remembers hearing about Freeze going on a rampage a few days into his trip, but he hadn’t realized another one of his places had been caught in the cross-fire. The cold burst the pipes, and now the whole place is undergoing renovation.

He hears all this from the crotchety old lady who lives in the next building over (her building needs renovation too, but will the city pay for it? Of course not, they weren’t ‘directly impacted by disaster’ so they won’t see a penny of relief funds even though their pipes are on the same line. Typical) and when he finally extricates himself from the conversation, it’s almost noon, his second cup of coffee is long-since empty and he’s at the end of his goddamn rope.

By the time he sees his next safehouse, he isn’t even surprised anymore.

“Does God hate me?” He asks the boarded up building. “Is this a punishment? What did I do? What the fuck did I do?”

He is 99% sure at this point that someone is burning his bolt holes. There’s a short list of people with the resources and the intel to do it, and while he’s not above ruling out the likes of Damian just yet, he seriously doubts anyone wearing a bat is behind this.

Besides, Dick would have noticed by now if Damian were sinking this many resources into convoluted covert ops designed to make Tim suffer. Definitely. Probably.

Fuck it.

He goes around the back and hops on top of his suitcase to reach the clunky camera watching the back entrance. This building is on the shittier side, closer to Crime Alley than his other haunts; cameras break all the time around here. He’ll have it replaced after he’s a functional human again.

Reportedly, this building was tagged for ‘high toxicity levels’— which is pretty typical for any building where fear toxin or Joker gas are found in any amount. They must have found a lot to condemn the whole building, but Tim is confident he’ll be fine. The airborne shit dissipates to safe levels within hours depending on the ventilation. If it was in the air, it’s long gone. Anything else needs to be injected to be effective.

Once the camera’s busted, he kicks out the boards and heads inside.

He drags his suitcase in after him, and mourns the shower he probably won’t be getting. The hall lights are out, and chances are the water’s been shut off along with the electricity. But at this point, he simply does not give a shit. All he wants are four walls and a mattress.

Leaning on the door to his floor to make it open, he stumbles out into the hallway—

And catches sight of the glistening curved dagger stabbed into the wall next to his door, the hilt gleaming green in the sinking sun.

“Nope,” Tim says, spinning on his heel and going back down the stairwell double time. “Nope, nope, nope.”

He is now 100% certain that the League of Assassins has been burning his bolt holes. Ra’s al fucking Ghul can eat his whole ass.

—

Seven blocks away, Tim sits on the sidewalk in front of a bodega and contemplates a third cup of coffee. The shittiest one yet.

See, here’s the thing.

The thing is, he has options.

He could go to the Manor. Or the penthouse. Or to Steph’s place. He’d have to answer some unnecessary questions like ‘Master Timothy, you know you can’t sleep on aircraft, why didn’t you sleep before your flight’ or ‘Tim, why didn’t you come here first, you know you can still come to me if you’re in trouble, right’ or ‘why did you agree to fumigate your fucking house, you loser, lmao’. (Stephanie is not going to let him live this down).

He is absolutely certain that he would be welcomed in any of these places and after a completely undeserved amount of fussing, he could take a fucking nap and someone else would deal with the League bullshit for him.

And that’s the thing. There’s the rub.

No one should have to deal with the League bullshit for him. This is his problem. He’s not in a hurry to bring them down on anyone. Not even Damian.

With grim resignation, he reaches for his phone to try and find a hotel room (during a con’ weekend apparently, RIP) and maybe get a fucking handle on this whole stupid thing, when he hears:

“Hand over your wallet!”

He lifts his head slowly and finds himself looking down the barrel of a gun. A gun held by some guy wearing a ski mask in broad fucking daylight. There’s another guy next to him who’s watching the street. There’s a third guy somewhere behind him who he can’t see, but he can hear the scuff of his boots.

Sure. Why not. With the day he’s had, this might as well happen. He holds up his hands placatingly.

Tim contemplates his muggers. The guy with the gun is jittery, probably new to this, or hopped up on something. He keeps glancing between Tim and the bodega behind him, so they were probably planning a run on the till. Might have chickened out, or thought Tim was an easier target, an unexpected meal ticket plopped right in their path. Or they were already inside when Tim sat down, which wouldn’t bode well for his situational awareness seeing as he just came out of there himself.

The grinding gears of his tired brain keep getting caught on the fact that this is happening in the middle of the fucking day. Tim glances at the street corner and bites his cheek in frustration. Yeah, he’s smack dab in the middle of the Alley. Figures.

“Are you deaf or somethin’ man?” The guy with the gun is saying. “Hand over your fucking wallet!”

The other guy doesn’t seem as crazy-eyed. He’s nervous, though. He keeps looking around like he’s expecting Batman to materialize, to come whistling down the street like a beat cop.

“Dude, come on, it’s not fucking worth it,” he says, grabbing at the gunman’s shoulder. “We got the money, let’s fucking go.”

The third guy kicks over Tim’s suitcase. “Yeah, come on, Don, let’s just grab this shit and bounce.”

Tim can’t do anything. He’s not Red Robin right now. He’s Timothy Drake-Wayne, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, and he’s getting mugged in front of a bodega at two in the afternoon in a rumpled suit and tie and still toting his suitcase from his early morning flight.

His hands are trembling from unspent adrenaline, too much caffeine, and not enough sleep. His eyelids are the heaviest they’ve ever been in his godforsaken life. His ears are ringing. He could knock all three of them down in less time than it takes to tie his shoelaces. But he can’t.

“Shut up, Johnny, look at him shaking! What’s he gonna do? If he doesn’t wanna get shot, rich boy’s gonna hand over all his fucking shit!”

“Hey, let’s just—” Tim tries to say.

Stars explode across his vision as Tim takes a punch he genuinely wasn’t expecting. He stares up at the blue sky for about half a second, more confused than anything else, before the gunman grabs him by the front of his shirt and hauls him up to shout in his face.

“What’s it gonna be, pretty boy?!”

Caught on the exhausted edge between vigilante training and the preservation of his identity, Tim is frozen. He doesn’t know what to do. He kind of wants to cry.

“Gee, Donny, what is it gonna be?” A fourth voice says, full of false cheer.

Tim blinks. So do the muggers.

He knows that voice.

“Who the fuck—?” The gunman drops Tim, spinning around and into a fist. He tumbles down to the ground, out cold.

Everything happens pretty quickly after that.

Jason Todd is in civvies. He’s sporting a worn out looking hoodie and a pair of jeans that have seen better days. But his heavy boots are the same ones he wears for his uniform, and the kick he delivers to Johnny’s face is all Red Hood.

Almost in a daze, Tim watches him fight with the usual mix of seething envy and raw desire that rears its ugly head any time he gets to see Jason in action. He’s fast, decisive. Efficient. Beautiful. Tim wishes he had Jason’s skill. And he wishes—

Well. He wishes a lot of things about Jason Todd.

Tim is pretty sure he and Jason are friends. Maybe. Probably. They’ve pretty much moved past the whole “replacement”, “zombie-dickhead” part of their relationship and have graduated to occasionally providing backup on ops that overlap in each other’s sectors, ganging up on Dick when they’re all in the same room, and maintaining a surprisingly steady stream of vigilante gossip to keep each other in the loop.

So, ok, yes, due to the aforementioned, he’s pretty sure they’re friends. And also because Jason wouldn’t have stuck his neck out for him otherwise. He would have just let him get mugged.

Watching Jason fight is one of Tim’s favorite pastimes. But right now, Tim’s usual appreciation is soured by the gut-roiling embarrassment of being caught in this position by Jason of all people. His eyes itch. His cheek throbs. He’s so fucking tired.

“Hey, little stalker,” Jason says suddenly, holding out an expectant hand in Tim’s face. The muggers are groaning on the ground around them. Tim isn’t sure when that happened. He might have zoned out. “Did you know that you had a stalker for a change?”

Tim flushes. “I resent that. I haven’t stalked anyone in years.” He takes the hand. It’s warm, and calloused, and big around his.

Jason laughs at him and yanks him to his feet. “Liar.”

Tim’s mouth twists into a scowl. He tries to glare at Jason, but he can feel himself swaying and Jason still hasn’t let go of him, and it’s ruining everything.

Also, lowkey, Jason is right. But in his defense, it is literally their job to stalk people, so.

“I haven’t stalked you in years then. Just other guys. Bad guys. Not non-bad guys. Fuck. You know what I mean. Whatever.” He pauses; recalibrates. “Had?” He asks.

Jason’s eyebrows inched higher and higher the longer Tim talked. Tim doesn’t blame him.

“Yeah. Had.”

So much for the League, Tim muses.

Jason gives him a once over before tugging decisively on Tim’s wrist, easily grabbing the handle of his suitcase and starting to walk with both in tow, to Tim’s rising horror.

“You’re coming with me, shortstack. What’s wrong with you? Are you drunk? You look like shit.”

Tim tries to yank his wrist out of Jason’s grip, but the asshole doesn’t budge. “I’m not drunk,” Tim snaps. “I’m fine. I’m just. I’m just… really tired.”

Jason stops abruptly, and Tim stumbles into his shoulder.

“I can see that,” he says, steadying Tim with an amused but ultimately sympathetic look. He loads Tim’s suitcase onto the back of a motorcycle that Tim literally just now noticed.

God, he’s fucked. And not even in a fun way.

“C’mon,” Jason says. “Don’t fall asleep on the way over— road rash sucks ass.”

—

They don’t talk on the way to— wherever Jason is taking them, but once they’re parked in a random garage and walking towards the elevators, the game of twenty questions begins.

“So why’ve you got League assassins after you, anyway? Piss in a lazarus pit? Push over the baby brat on the playground?”

“Ra’s al Ghul wants my body,” Tim says, dejected but resigned to this bizarre fact of his life. “Since I was seventeen, I’m pretty sure.”

Jason wrinkles his nose. “Ew.”

“I don’t think it’s a sex thing? But it could also be a sex thing.”

“Again. Fucking ew.”

“Yeah. Also I blew up a bunch of his shit and I think he’s still salty I got away with it.”

“Is that why you weren’t at the Manor?” Jason asks, herding Tim out of the elevator and down a long hallway. “Or anywhere but a random street in Crime Alley?”

Tim nods. “Yeah. They found all my safehouses, but— my mess. My problem.”

Jason thwacks him upside the head.

“Ow! What the fuck?”

“You’re the dumbest person on the planet.”

“Am not. B is on-planet right now.”

“Then you’re pretty fucking close,” Jason snarks, fishing out some keys and opening one of the apartment doors.

Tim scoffs at him as he’s pushed inside. “Oh, please. Don’t try to tell me you would let Dick swoop in and solve all your problems for you.”

Jason rolls his eyes, stepping into the side kitchen and popping open the freezer door of the fridge.

“Dickiebird can’t even solve his own problems,” he says as he rummages. “But maybe when I’m fucked up enough to let three nobodies robbing a fucking bodega get the jump on me, that’s a sign that, maybe, it might be time to call in the cavalry. Dick isn’t the only person who’s got your back.” He presses an ice pack to Tim’s face until he takes it himself, and keeps steering him through the apartment. “Just saying.”

Tim would protest with all of his very good reasons why Jason is definitely wrong here, but he’s too busy processing the fact that Jason has led him into a bedroom. With a bed. There’s a bed, with a mattress and pillows and blankets. Right there. Tim stares at it with lustful eyes.

Jason catches him staring. He rolls his eyes, but he’s sporting a small smile that Tim has the presence of mind to memorize. He walks over to a dresser and pulls out a big shirt and a pair of shorts that he hands to Tim.

“Look. If you don’t know where to go, you can always come here. No guarantees I’ll be always around, but, yeah. Mi casa es su casa, or whatever.”

Tim eyes him up, clutching the bundle of Jason-smelling fabric in his hands. “And you’d do that for me because…why, exactly?”

Jason flicks his forehead, a stinging reprimand. Tim hisses.

“Because, dumbass, you need help and I feel like it. And you don’t actually suck to be around, so shut up and be grateful.”

“Oh, yes,” Tim deadpans, rubbing at his forehead. “So grateful to be allowed the privilege of squatting with you.”

The thing of it is, Tim is grateful. But Jason doesn’t need to know that.

Jason squawks, and before Tim can duck, he’s snatched Tim around the neck in a headlock. His arm is thick and doesn’t budge no matter how Tim shoves and kicks. The ice pack and the clothes go flying, and Tim just about dies. Jason is warm.

“Jason—!”

“Brat!” Jason crows, not giving an inch. “I paid for this place fair and square— you’re the only squatter here!”

“Blood money doesn’t count as square!”

“Tell that to half of Gotham, kid.”

“I’m trying to, thanks for noticing,” Tim says, finally wrenching himself free of Jason’s grip, stumbling into the bed and giving into its siren song. He sits down heavily on the edge, toppling over sideways and reaching pathetically for the fallen ice pack that’s just out of his reach.

“And don’t call me kid—” he complains, muffled by the pillow. It also smells like Jason. “You’re barely two years older than me.”

The cold ice pack is pressed into his fingers. He cracks an eye open to look, but Jason is just smirking at him, like he’s giving Tim the win. Ass.

“Coulda fooled me, shortstack.”

Tim rolls his eyes, and onto his back, toeing off his shoes and letting them clatter to the floor. He can’t tell if Jason’s bed is the best bed in the world, or if he’s just deliriously inventing things.

Frankly, Jason Todd’s bed is the last place he ever thought he’d end up, this morning or otherwise, so he’s never bothered to speculate. He does not have a contingency plan for this.

“Is there a reason you keep calling me short,” he complains, “Or will I just need to fill in the blanks myself?”

“Can’t help it. You’re just so small,” Jason coos. Tim props himself up on an elbow at that, raising a disgusted eyebrow.

“You don’t hear me constantly talking about how big you are.”

Jason grins like he just won the lottery; Tim shuts his eyes the second it’s out of his mouth.

“Baby, you don’t know how big I am.”

He does, actually. Not in a creepy stalker way, just— there was this one time. A big rogue breakout at Arkham, all-hands on deck type of situation; Tim, Cass, and Jason were covering Poison Ivy in the park. Acid-spitting pitcher plants were involved.

And look, Jason’s tactical gear is fine in the day to day, but it’s not like any of them had time to prep a neutralizing agent, so when Jason needed his pants off, stat…uh. Well. Tim was right there.

He knows, okay?

“Alright,” he rallies, trying desperately not to replay the memory of Jason adjusting himself through his boxers. All of himself. “I walked right into that one.”

“Oh, trust me. You’ll know if you’ve walked into it.”

Tim scoffs, but he can feel how red his face is.

And the thing is. He says it without really meaning to.

But he still means it.

“You gonna put your money where your mouth is, big guy?”

The change is immediate. Jason had been halfway out the door, but now he turns to Tim, giving him his full, undivided attention. He looks at Tim, laid out in Jason's bed, giving him a very slow once over. The scrutiny is at once nerve-wracking and thrilling.

“Thought you didn’t want my money,” Jason murmurs.

The temperature in the room spikes. If it weren’t for the slow throb of his bruised cheek, Tim would think that he’s already asleep and dreaming.

But he isn’t. He’s very much aware that he’s wide awake.

Tim swallows. “Well. It’s not your money I want.”

Jason’s grin is electric.

He stalks over to the bed, and Tim is frozen like a rabbit, waiting to see what he’ll do next. Jason settles a knee on the sheets between Tim’s legs, looming over Tim and boxing him in against the mattress. Tim’s free hand reaches up of its own accord to tangle in the collar of Jason’s hoodie, and the cotton is softer than he expected.

Jason’s eyes rove over his face, dark and heavy. He catches Tim’s face in his hand, swiping his thumb lightly across the bruising hot ache of his cheekbone. He leans in deliberate and slow and—

—and stops about an inch away from Tim’s mouth.

“Get some sleep, babybird,” Jason teases, his breath puffing gently over the skin of Tim’s lips. “You can proposition me again tomorrow.”

“It’s, like, 3:30 in the afternoon,” Tim argues, breathless.

“Yeah, and your body thinks it’s 3:30 in the morning. You’re dead on your feet. Don’t make promises you can’t keep, and go the fuck to sleep.”

Jason moves to rise. But Tim hooks a stubborn arm around his neck and pulls him down that last remaining inch.

The kiss is— bad. At first.

Tim basically smashed their mouths together to prove a point, and Jason muffles a surprised sound against Tim’s teeth. He lands heavily on top of Tim at an awkward angle, and he’s kind of crushing him. Tim refuses to let go, but— Jason doesn’t pull away.

Jason gentles the kiss instead, and Tim thrills. He levers himself up onto his elbow, wrapping an anchoring arm around Tim’s back. He finds a home between Tim’s legs, and he lets Tim kiss him until Tim's lips are tingling and his fingers go slack; until he can’t keep his eyes open anymore.

Somewhere between fifteen minutes and a small eternity later, Jason presses one more kiss to the corner of his mouth. He curls around Tim on his side, and Tim turns his face into Jason’s neck with a soft wondering sigh.

“I’ll keep it. Promise. Wait n’ see,” Tim mumbles. Jason snorts, but doesn’t budge, and Tim can hear his smile in his voice, lilted and lulling.

“Sure, babybird. I’ll wait. I got nowhere else to be.”

Tim is already asleep.

#one hundred thousand years have passed #i creak up out of the soil gasping and hacking and coughing #'i lived bitch'#'have some jaytim that grew legs on me'#my writing #asked and answered #jaytim #ladytauria #hurt/comfort #this one is sillier and more light-hearted than the other ones #the hurt is more like 'near tears travel exhaustion' than your typical aftermath of violence lol but it so definitely counts #i held a gun to the head of the muse that said 'this is way too short' and pulled the fucking trigger #i KNOW it's a very fast get together but i did Not want this to become my next 5 digit wordcount fic okay. okay. oka #the bones of a long 'tim and jason vs the league of assassins' fic is hiding here #and if i actually wrote that this would have ended much differently #but i am Not Writing That okay I am Writing Cowboys and also Werewolves Right Now. I Do Not Have Time For This!!!!!!#prompt fill

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thatfreshi · 7 months

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"Tough Crowd" (Uni AU P. 1)

Really embracing the catty queerness of these fuckers LMAO. Anyways, here's our little intro to Ravenguard Univeristy and Tav's living situation :)

Tw - mention of alcohol

@justporo (If you want me to tag you in part two, leave a comment!)

It's finally move-in day. After getting your Associate's degree at some small-town community college, you finally transferred to Ravenguard University, probably through sheer luck. Perhaps someone dropped out of the waitlist, but you're here now, moving into the place that'll be your home for the upcoming semesters. Soon enough you're asked for your name, and given the key to your room, quickly being ushered to the elevators. The volunteering students are clearly stressed by all the newcomers, so you don't exactly blame them for seeming impersonal.

You read your key, which has deemed you to be in room 717. Sneaking your way over to the floor buttons, you lightly tap 7, and place yourself in one of the empty corners of the elevator. After dropping off a few strangers on lower floors, you finally get to your destination, and find your dorm room shortly after. When you unlock the door, you immediately hear arguing.

"I need the room with the desk! I have far too many exams to study for. Besides, you don't seem like the studying type anyways."

Two women are yelling at each other, one with jet-black hair and the other with piercing eyes and an intimidating demeanor.

"We're all here to study fool."

"Well, as far as I know, you don't want to be a doctor. Besides, aren't you just here as an athlete? Or, my bad, were here as an athlete?"

At this point the ginger is fuming, fists clenched, but simply takes the room they were arguing over and slams the door, locking it immediately. The med student slams her fist on the door.

"Just wait til I tell the RA about this Lae'zel!"

She sighs, clearly still trying to let go of her anger. When she turns from the closed door, she finally realizes you're standing there.

"Sorry about that. Roommate problems, am I right?"

The pale woman nervously chuckles. Dressed in all black, she looks ready for a funeral, well if funerals were comfy and full of college students.

"Uh, yeah. Please don't tell me you're going to be arguing like this every night."

"Well, her and I don't particularly get along. I'm surprised housing even let us be in the same room after how many issues we've had. Though I'm sure I'll learn to tolerate her better in our living situation."

The woman ponders the thought for a moment, and then her eyes light up.

"I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Shadowheart, and yes my parents are hippies. Most people call me Shadow since it's less cringe."

"Well, nice to meet you. Please tell me there's a room I can snag that you aren't fighting about."

"Oh, go down the hall and to the right. That one has a bigger wardrobe, but Lae and I both really wanted the desk."

Your phone vibrates, with a notification from some online magazine.

'Szarr: The Seven Models Behind the Magic'

"Why has this man been doing so many interviews?"

Shadowheart's ears perk up.

"You know Szarr, that fashion guy right? He's been all over the news, I cannot escape it."

"Oh. You may want to be careful how you talk about him. One of his precious prodigies goes here. Kind of a bitch honestly."

She makes a fake throw-up noise, rolling her eyes.

"Wait. One of his models goes here? I assumed they were all full-time."

"He's full-time alright. I've never seen Astarion pause for anything other than himself. Anyways, I suppose I need to unpack my things IN THE ROOM WITHOUT A DESK."

Shadowheart yells the last part loud enough for Lae'zel to hear, which coerces a groan from her behind the locked door. And just like that, she's locked away in her own room, leaving you with the room at the end of the hall. At least it has the nice wardrobe? You put on some music and start to unpack all your bags, soaking in the space. It leaves some to be desired, but you're excited nonetheless. You're woken from the trance however when there's a very loud knock at your dorm door. You wait for a moment, hoping one of the other two will get it, but the knocking simply continues obnoxiously. Making your way to the front door with a scowl on your face, you throw it open.

"Floor meeting in thirty minutes. If you or any of your roommates are late, I'll kill you."

You're met with the topic of your previous conversation: Astarion. While you aren't necessarily into fashion, you've seen so much about this guy as of recent, mostly from people thirsting on Twitter. You almost laugh, knowing Shadowheart will be pissed when she hears that he's the RA for their floor. He doesn't wait for you to respond and simply walks down to the next room. After closing the door, you call for your new gossipy friend.

"Oh Shadow, I have wonderful news!"

She opens her door and leans in the frame.

"Please tell me I heard that voice wrong."

"Nope. I guess if you want to complain about Lae'zel, you'll have to see your favorite person!"

She lets out a heavy sigh.

"Fine. I guess I'll just deal with her. Better the devil you know than the devil you don't."

You knock on Lae'zel's door to tell her about the meeting, but you're simply met with a yell of 'I know!'

"Geez, tough crowd."

"She's the toughest crowd you'll meet. Don't ever try to impress her, you'll die trying."

Shadowheart gives you this slice of advice while putting her hair in a black claw clip.

The next thirty minutes pass by quickly as you decorate the walls of your room. Posters, little pieces of art, pictures of friends from home. When you leave the room to go to the floor meeting, you're met with the overlapping voices of everyone from floor seven, clearly annoyed that they have to be here. You and Shadowheart sit on a couch in the common area, and Lae'zel stands off to the side.

"Okay, I'm going to make this quick."

The room gets quiet quickly as Astarion speaks up, pushing his shades down his nose slightly so he can make intense eye contact with anyone who interrupts him.

"I'm your RA for the year. No, I will not answer your calls. If I'm sleeping, you better not wake me up. I do not care if you have an air fryer in your room, but if you burn down the university I will be pissed. To make it entirely clear, I'm only doing this to make a little extra cash, so do not expect me to be, how do you say... present."

The room is silent, both pleased that he doesn't seem to care and entirely annoyed by his attitude.

"Any questions?"

Once again, no one speaks.

"Great! If you truly need something, I would suggest you go to the RA on floor eight, my wonderful friend Gale, as he actually cares about the well-being of strangers. Good day!"

The large group mutters as they all make their way back to their rooms. Shadowheart turns to whisper to you.

"Oh Gale fucking hates him, and I guarantee you he didn't sign off on being the RA of two floors. Can't wait to see that catfight."

You laugh at her comment, not noticing the white-haired man approaching the two of you.

"Shadowheart."

"Astarion."

"Who's your new friend?"

She then realizes she never actually asked your name.

"Tav. It's Tav."

Astarion makes a noise that lies somewhere between a laugh and a scoff.

"Fascinating. Well Tav, how would you like to be my plus-one to a party tonight? I would ask our emo queen here, but I'm sure she has some sulking and studying to do already."

"And I thought you'd be selling out on another Instagram post, but I guess you just really love bothering people. Have fun though, if you even know how to do that."

And with that comment. Shadowheart is back off to her room, most likely to sulk and study like Astarion said.

"Ugh, don't mind her. She just doesn't understand the hustle. Anyways, Tav was it? You seem like just the kind of person I'd love to silently drink champagne with."

You're silent for a moment, unsure if he really is as bad as Shadowheart makes him out to be.

"The champagne is free by the way."

What better way to sell a broke college student on a night out?

"Alright, guess I'm in."

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #au #shadowheart #lae'zel #astarion #gale of waterdeep #freshiau

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urrockstar-xe · 1 year

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tears, panic, noise. - c.m x platonic!fem!reader

posted april 13th, 2023 12:55 am

anon asked: Prompt 50 with platonic chad meeks martin x fem!reader where reader and Chad are in mindy and Anikas place in the ladder scene and when it gets to their turn to cross the ladder Chad's like "that's going to be a problem" and readers like "that's a fucking understatement" because she was stabbed like Anika, (you can choose if reader dies or not.)

okay so i did my absolute best, i actually rlly like it ngl. i'm new at gorey stuff so sorry if it isn't up to your standards but i like how this turned out and i hope you do as well <3 xx

masterlist

word count: 0.5k

You don’t know how you ended up in this situation, actually, you did, having insisted you’d spend the night with your friends no matter who was trying to kill them. But you never expected to be locked inside Quinn’s room watching your friend’s older sister climb across a ladder to the next-door neighbor’s apartment while Ghostface was actively trying to get in.

You assumed Tara, Mindy, and Anika had all got out of the apartment when the chasing started, or at least that’s what you had hoped happened but you couldn’t think about that right now, all you could think about was the burning sensation in your stomach as you sat on the blood covered bed.

Chad turned to you explaining how he was going to crawl across first so that he could grab you the second you made it to the other side. He watched as you stood up and stood beside him while hugging yourself.

Looking out as Sam was pulled through the window by Danny, Chad looked back at you before speaking again, “This might be a problem” You scoffed looking up at your best friend,

“That’s a fucking understatement” You winced once more before he began climbing out of the window, carefully focusing on Sam and Danny instead of the ground.

Finally, he came through the window as you took your hands off of your stomach. You felt them tremble, wiping off any blood on the back of your jeans before beginning to climb onto the ladder.

You could barely hear Sam and Chad as they yelled across to you, too focused on trying to subdue the pain you felt with deep breathing exercises.

But you didn’t miss the way they started yelling more urgently, you knew what this meant. There was only one reason they’d react like that. But you can’t look back now. You can’t risk it.

Tears flooded your vision, making everything even hazier than it already was as you tried not to stop moving, shakily grabbing onto the next step.

Panic filled your body as you felt somebody yank on the ladder, causing it to move from under you. You tightened your grip as you looked at Chad who was pleading with you to hold on. You muttered a string of curse words as you carefully went to keep going, just as Ghostface began violently shaking the ladder.

You gasped when you almost lost your grip, you no longer heard the screams from your friends, or the sounds the ladder made as it moved. Everything slowed down, the only thing you heard now was your rapid breaths. Pleading with yourself in your head to just hold on.

You closed your eyes just as everything came back. The screaming, the shaking, the sobbing.

You heard Danny yell at you to duck and just as you did he threw an old baseball through his window and into Quinn’s hitting Ghostface in the chest, maybe he decided it wasn’t worth it, or maybe he got annoyed, you didn’t know and you didn’t care all you care about is the shaking stopped.

And you kept going, and after what felt like forever but was no more than 30 seconds, Chad pulled you through, and Danny dropped the ladder out of the window.

You all watched as Ghostface stomped out of the bedroom, leaving you alone in the sound of heavy breathing and 911 talking through Danny’s phone.

#chad meeks martin imagine #chad meeks x you #chad meeks x reader #chad meeks martin #chad meeks martin x reader #scream imagines #scream 6 #mason gooding #Spotify

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visionofhope04 · 1 year

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Omg I just reread Neglected again thanks to the ask and the way that story hurts and ended is soo satisfying I was wondering what would Talia think of the while thing goin down? Did she also favor Damien? and I also had forgotten that batsis was brought back to life like Jason, like how did she die? Also I'm sorry for bothering of I am this story is just amazing to read

You're not bothering me at all! Thank you so much for reading it. I'm glad you enjoy it

Talia wouldn't know until it was too late. It'd take a long time for her to rebuild the League and she'd be busy making sure the people in the League were ones she could trust. She'd check on them from a distance but never interact with them. She didn't want to put them in more danger by having enemies see she knew them. Due to her upbringing, she'd have a prejudice towards Damian as he'd be the heir of the League since he's a male. Ra's didn't let Talia be the heir due to her gender and enforced the importance of a male heir. She'd subconsciously be sexist but for the most part doesn't believe women are inferior to men. She did her best to raise her children equally despite the circumstances and did not approve of the batfam's treatment towards her daughter (besides Jason). She makes sure to send Jason a special hand-crafted dagger as a thank you for being there for batsis (he's very confused but delighted as it came with no note). As for being brought back to life, I don't remember that part of the story but she protected Ra's from a traitor. He was about to be shot but batsis got in the way and killed the traitor. She bled out from the bullet wound and multiple cuts. An unidentified poison was on the blade she was cut with. The Lazarus pit wouldn't be used if she'd died in combat under other circumstances as she'd be considered not good enough.

#batfamily #batfam x reader #batsis!reader #batfam x batsis #batsis x batfamily #batsis x batfam #batfam x neglected!batsis!reader #talia and damian #jason todd #talia al ghul #damianwayne #damian wayne #damian wayne x sister!reader #damian wayne x batsis #ras al ghul #league of assassins

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zeroducks-2 · 2 months

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Let’s talk Helena Wayne bc like it’s criminal that we barely get anything about her and that they completely changed her origin and family (the bertinelli mafia family) to add her into the main comic book line.

im torn bc I love both versions of her :(

But I wanted Dick to share some older siblings trauma with her and for Damian to have that “blood” sibling bc I think that would have completely rocked early Damian’s shit. All his life, he was told to be the true heir of Bruce Wayne, but it turns out he has an OLDER SISTER BRUCE HID FROM TALIA AND RA. Idk I just think that would have crushed his lil murder ego and made for some interesting sibling moments and an interesting dynamic.

Lastly, can we talk about how the Batfam fandom completely stole all of Helena (Bertinelli)’s character traits and gave them to Jason??? Im sorry but when in the material source has Jason ever been super devout and catholic? Helena is the religious one, why am I reading about Jason’s apparent Catholicism in fics and HC dumps? Also Jason (besides his Robin days) has never been this savour and protector of the woman and children of Gotham, that’s very very veryyyyyy clearly a trait from Helena and strongly ties into her backstory as a child who suffered coming from a rich bloodline of syndicate crime. And don’t think this is me bashing on Jason, bc it’s not!! I love Jason Todd - but for who he is. Not for this weird fandom version of him who is either still suffering from the craze the lazarus pit puts you through, or this Joan of Arc of Gotham character either.

I'm gonna be honest with you, this character confuses me a bit. I know that Bruce and Selina got married and had a daughter in their Earth-Two incarnations, and this daughter is Helena Wayne, who's Dick best buddy and a vigilante in her own right called Huntress.

Then I know Helena Bertinelli, daughter of a mafia lord who was introduced in the late 80s in the preboot comic continuity, and was a quite murdery vigilante called Huntress who Bruce didn't accept because she "reminded him of Barbara" (you gotta love DC's excuses for sexism and ableism lol it's not like Barbara was dead just paralyzed. Also it did not look like Bruce gave a shit about it at the end of TKJ that Joker had crippled her - "she reminds him or Barbara". LMAO Bruce).

Then post reboot the title Huntress was given back to Helena Wayne, however Helena Bertinelli is ALSO there and she's ALSO called Huntress? She appears in the Grayson run where Dick is an agent of Spyral, and she seems to be Italian-American but I don't think her origin is the same as in preboot? Also I have no idea about Helena Wayne's continuity post reboot - when she was conceived, who raised her, how did she become a vigilante, neither I have any idea where to find this info.

I agree that if she had been raised by Bruce it could have made for an interesting dynamic amongst the bats and birds. It did in Earth 2 even if only Dick is just there - they're not siblings but they also aren't not siblings? The dynamic is murky and I love murky. Pretty sure it would have changed everything for Damian as well, especially the fact that she would have most likely been the first object of Damian's need to prove himself worthy, instead of Tim.

That being said, not much of what you mentioned is fanon about Jason.

Jason had an arc in which he's a priest. Pretty normal that fans HC him as devout or anyway catholic.

Father Todd in Flashpoint: The World of Flashpoint Vol. 1 - this is an AU in which Jason was never taken in by Bruce and was never Robin.

As for the whole "protector of women and children" thing, you probably know that Jason was born in extreme poverty, his father was in and out of prison and his mother died of overdose. He is very much a child who suffered because of a broken system, and given how harshly he reacts when women and children are the recipient of violence "in his Robin days", is it really that strange that fans assume he carried these traits in adulthood?

We see him being sweet and protective to kids many times, or anyway losing his mcfucking shit when children are being harmed (like in Brothers in Blood). Imo that of Jason caring about vulnerable people is barely a headcanon, and I don't see how this would make him the Joan of Arc of Gotham either - if I'm being honest ALL vigilantes should care about minorities and vulnerable people, it's the other way around that is weird as fuck (like that arc in which Dick almost dies to prevent this guy from shutting down Bludhaven's casinos, like what the hell was Tim Seeley thinking exactly).

That being said, I understand your frustration if the character you like doesn't have recognition. Trust me I do! There's a lot of them for me too, especially female and/or non white characters who had maybe 1 run ages ago and then got forgotten by DC, and I would REALLY LIKE to see them more, and to see them acknowledged more by the fans (from the top of my mind, Jenni Ognats or Patricia Trayce).

But this isn't fandom's fault. As I mentioned before, Helena Bertinelli as a fleshed out character was a thing between 20 and 30 years ago, and most of tumblr's userbase was either very young or not born yet. DC forgot about her, stripped Huntress from her to give it to Helena Wayne, then brought her back but as an agent of Spyral and it really doesn't look like they care. Fans can't be held accountable for the fact that she's simply not there. They didn't "steal" Helena's traits to give them to Jason; this implies a willful and malicious intent from people who saw this character and decided her features fit another character better, and it's obviously not what happened - people barely know Helena Bertinelli exists if at all.

Also - I said this about Jason already and I will repeat it a million times: Jason wasn't picked at random from the sea of DC characters to be people's blorbo, he resonates with fans for a reason. Under the Red Hood is a deeply emotional and relatable arc for many people because it's the story of how a child was failed by every single person who was supposed to protect and guide him, and then was failed again as an adult victim who demanded to be seen and heard and acknowledged, and instead was silenced again. It's heartbreaking to see how many people see this and say "this is me, this is what happened to me", but it is what it is, and most of all there is no taking this away from Jason's fans. DC tried to villainize him, to make him look and sound like a madman, to make him unhinged and deranged and they had Tim suggest that "maybe it's the Lazarus Pit that drove him mad", but it didn't work and fans still love him and still consider him a symbol of how "bad victims" are treated worse than their abusers, and keep being retraumatized by a society that prefers turning a blind eye to violence than deal with the issue at its root.

And lastly, bitching won't get you anywhere. I am the living proof that the right way to make people interested in something is to be passionate about that something. You want more folks to pay attention to Helena Bertinelli, then since DC won't do anything with her, the most effective thing you can do is post about her - write essays, draw her, write fics with her, create webweavings and moodboards, commission this stuff if you don't have the skills. Complaining that she should be the recipient of fandom love won't make anyone more interested in her.

#my asks #long post #yall please stop blaming fandom for DC's sins #'no one cares about my blorbo!' look up and see if your blorbo is anywhere in the source material in the past 10 years #DC has historically culled female characters and minority characters even when their runs were beloved and successful #see Stephanie Brown and Cassandra Cain for an easy accessible example #if it hadn't been for fans yelling about them we probably wouldn't have them AT ALL since DC was adamant in pretending they never existed #despite both of them having had perfectly good selling runs #so no it's not the fans' fault for being sexist #of course there's sexism in fandoms there is sexism everywhere #but it's not that simple and fans aren't responsible for the fuckups of the source material anyway #okay rant over #jason todd #helena wayne #helena bertinelli

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spop-romanticizes-abuse · 2 months

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Thinking about it, Double Trouble would probably be a better character if they were gender fluid instead of non binary. It just seems to make sense with their character, considering that they are an actor and seems to quite like taking woman's form (seriously, i think that they ONLY takes woman's forms, outside the clone)

Also, it would be nice if the explanation on why they are an thief is because his species was obliterated by Hordak a long time ago and that's the only job opportunity they really have, it woudn't explain why they decided to sudenly join the Horde but...whatever

And am i the only one that got the impression DT was a prostitute? Like, their clothes, some of their lines (specially that one "i live to serve") always rubed me the wrong way? Idk, that's a bit weird to put on a kids show, specially when the prostitute in question seems to be flirting with a teenager

(Seriously, what was up with DT and Catra? The hell was that?)

idk i mean, gender presentation differs for everyone. i do think that non-binary people can switch from masculine to feminine gender presentation, if they want to. at the end of the day, you pick the label that feels most comfortable for you, not the label that is 100% accurate (because there is no such thing).

i do agree that we could have gotten some backstory for DT, especially since they play into some harmful stereotypes. the weirdest thing is that there was no need to make them look like a reptile thing. in the 80s she-ra, double trouble is a human being. they could have just changed the gender and kept the species the same. i do like double trouble's character design, i'm not gonna lie, but it's still undeniable that they're not a very good representation of trans or non-binary people.

i feel like that last part is a reach, i'm sorry. idk where you got the prostitute part from. their clothes seem fine to me, it's just a bodysuit. and i don't think the “i live to serve” was meant to be sexual in any way. as for their flirting with catra, it just came off as typical villain behaviour. idk about the whole age thing, it's hard to determine exactly how old double trouble is. but that's on the writers being ambiguous with all of the characters' ages.

#spop critical #spop salt #spop criticism #spop discourse #spop #she ra #anti spop #double trouble

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michaeljoncarter · 2 years

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goddd talia's letter to bruce (that she never intended to send! that he only got because damian wanted him to know about it so bad, he stole it from her and brought it to him!) in the batman files... i could really just start screaming and never stop

(transcription under cut)

My Beloved,

There is nothing uncomplicated about what you and I have. The goals of my father, and my dedication to him, are a part of my life and always will be. I know that you've ended things between us, but there is not a single part of me that believes you. While you may say that we are over, I know your eyes. Beloved, I know your eyes too well to believe anything you say.

Because of our complications, you and I will always have secrets between us and thoughts that we cannot share. That is the unfortunate nature of our relationships and of our loyalties. But there is one secret that I've kept from you, which I had no right to keep. All I can do is apologize and hope you can understand why I couldn't tell you this sooner. But I am telling you now.

Your son is alive, Beloved. When you and my father were allies--when you were hunting that man Quayin--I had become pregnant. I let my guard down with you, and you did the same. We were acting out an impossible life, and you were even happy when I told you that you were going to be a father. But when you and my father turned against each other, everything ended. Your eyes told me how silly I'd been to imagine our future, and so I told you I'd lost the child.

But he was fine. Your boy grew inside me, a fighter like his father, but without a chance at the life you wanted for him. I knew he needed more than the violent, lonely world of Ra's al Ghul. So I gave your boy--your beautiful little boy--away. He was placed in an orphanage, and as I've learned, has found a home with a young, caring family.

There is not a day that goes by that I don't think about him. I wonder what he looks like. I wonder how his little voice sounds. And every morning, I think about going to him. I think about taking him back, and raising him myself. I don't know how strong I can be, but I am trying to do what is right for him. There may come a morning when I just can't leave him any longer. There may come a morning when I go and take my boy back.

I've spent too much time, and too many tears on this letter, Beloved, because I have no real intention of mailing it. But I am sorry. I am so sorry that I've kept our son from both of us. And I wish I didn't have to keep all of this to myself.

Yours always,

Talia

#talia al ghul #bruce wayne #brutalia #also kinda #damian wayne #god !!#cant even get into it i love her so much #just the idea of baby damian trying to make bruce understand that talia was actually a good mom & did everything she could for him #and i love that the writer's just decided to live in the beautiful fantasy world where morrison never happened #and everything from son of the bat was left the hell alone instead of changed for the stupider #because yeah. me too bud

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spopsalt · 3 months

Text

Rewrote spop's ending!

This is a long post! Rewrite under the cut, if you want the TLDR 1. Glimmadora becomes canon. 2. Adora saved the world as Adora with the help of the princesses. 3. Catra is in the crimson waste with a girlfriend 4. Changed a bunch of dialogue 5. Made Horde Prime have more depth than just evilllllll 6. Bow and Swiftwind help Adora as well 7. Glimmer's confession, her other friends support and Angella's last words are what caused Adora to fight against Horde Prime's influence and absorb the failsafe

Glimmer was walking for what seemed like hours, she was trying to find Adora, and she wouldn't let her face this on her own. She finally found Adora. She ran over "Adora!" She was on the ground and Glimmer held onto her "Adora...?" Adora looked at her with teary eyes and spoke in what was barely above a whisper "I'm sorry..." Glimmer's eyes widened "Adora! Please transfer into She-Ra! That's the only way you can survive!" Adora said "I...can't....Horde Prime's virus is stopping me from transforming into She-Ra..." Tears formed in Glimmer's eyes "No. No. No. No! It can't....you're going to make it through this Adora..." Adora shook her head "Glimmer...you need to go...I need to do this on my own..."

Glimmer shook her head "No. I'm not going to leave you. I told you I would stay by your side no matter what, and that's I'm going to do." Tears formed in Adora's eyes "Glimmer..." Adora tried to reach Glimmer with shaky hands, but they just fell back to the ground. Glimmer held back her tears and held onto Adora tightly. "I got you Adora...no matter what." Adora's eyes closed and Glimmer said "Adora...? Adora?!"

Adora imagined herself in a white gown. Glimmer walked over to her in a pink dress that faded into purple with sparkle designs. "Hi Adora! Are you done getting ready? We're about to be late to Scropia's ball!" Adora smiled "I'm ready." She reached out for Glimmer's hand but Glimmer turned into Horde Prime, he smiled "Awww Adora, what a sweet dream. You are so confused, I'm here to save Etheria." Adora began walking back "No...no! You're evil! Your idea of saving Etheria is making everyone just like you!" Horde Prime walked closer to her, Adora tried to walk back but bumped into a wall while Horde Prime laughed "Why of course, I am perfect after all. Don't worry, your future will be happier this way." The background behind Adora shattered revealing just a black void while Adora cried.

She could hear Glimmer's voice "Adora, you are so strong and you will get through this!" Bow ran in on Swiftwind and Adora could hear Bow's voice "Adora you have to do this!" She could hear Swiftwind's voice "Adora, you're our friend! We know you can do this! Please fight it!" Adora said, "You guys...you have to leave...." Adora begged. Glimmer's grip on her tightened "No, we're not leaving you! Everyone's here for you!" Swiftwind said "We are never giving up on you! You're our friend! You don't give up on friends!" Bow continued "Exactly! We'll never give up on you Adora! All of us believe in you! You can do this! All of your friends are here for you! You have to fight it!" Adora cried "Please...leave...you're going to get hurt." Glimmer said "No, please Adora! You can do this! We need you!" The tears Glimmer had been holding back were starting to fall "I need you..."

Adora groaned "Glimmer..." Glimmer said "Adora please..." Bow chimed in "You have to fight!" Glimmer said "Adora, please...I was never able to tell you that I...I..." She held Adora close "I love you...Adora...I love you more than anyone else..." Adora's eyes widened. She remembered Angella's last request "Take care of each other...Glimmer....I...I won't give up on you..." Memories of Bow, Glimmer, Swiftwind, and Angella flew through Adora's mind with all of their support, she attempted to resist the Horde Prime's influence, and try to absorb the failsafe without dying "Not on Bow...not on Swiftwind...not on Etheria...Not. On. Myself!" Adora thrashed and struggled "Adora?!" Glimmer asked. Adora was breathing heavily "I can do this...I can do this!" All of the green scars on Adora's face vanished, she absorbed the power of the failsafe, and her eyes fluttered open. She took out her sword and stabbed the ground, waves of life and light covered the world.

Glimmer was smiling so wide her cheeks were hurting "Adora!" Glimmer said, hugging Adora, crying tears of joy. Bow hugged Adora as well while Swiftwind gave her a nose bump. "You're ok!" Adora smiled, hugging them back. "Thanks, Bow...Glimmer...Swiftwind...thank you guys so much...for supporting me...for not giving up on me..." She looked at Glimmer and smiled "You love me...?" Glimmer blushed and looked to the side, rubbing her neck "Well...uhm...I..." Adora smiled "Glimmer...I love you too..." Glimmer looked at Adora, with her eyes wide. Adora placed her hand on Glimmer's cheek and kissed her. Glimmer held onto Adora, and kissed her back. Adora smiled "I love you so much Glimmer...but there's one more thing I must do." She stood up, walked, found the princesses, and told everyone else the plan and she walked over to Horde Prime, everyone following her close behind.

Adora walked over to Horde Prime. while Glimmer followed. She looked at Horde Prime, took a deep breath, and said "I surrender myself to you." She got on her knees and put her hands up. Horde Prime smiled, "Looks like you finally came to your senses. With She-Ra, Prime will easily rise again." Horde Prime walked over to her and Adora held onto his arms. "Glimmer, Mermista, Perfuma, Sea Hawk, Scropia Bow, Swiftwind, everyone go!" Perfuma restrained him with vines, while Mermista threw water on him, Bow shot him while everyone else, including Adora, with her newfound powers due to the failsafe, attacked him. After a while, he fell to the ground. brutally beaten and bruised. He looked up at Adora. "You're making a huge mistake! I make everyone's lives better! I'm saving them!" Adora stared at him coldly and took out her sword.

After that, Horde Prime was gone. Catra, somewhere in the crimson waste felt her chip go off, and save the crimson waste around her, restored to how it was before. She looked up at the sky, smiled, and said "I knew you could do it. Adora." Catra's girlfriend ran behind Catra and hugged her, while Catra smiled and held onto her hand.

Adora smiled and hugged Glimmer, and Bow. "Thank you guys so much. Bow you are the best friend anyone can ask for, and Glimmer, I couldn't be prouder to be your girlfriend." Bow smiled, while Glimmer blushed. Adora went to Swiftwind and pet him "Swiftwind, you are an amazing stead, thank you all." Bow smiled "Of course Adora! You're our friend." Adora hugged them all, with a big smile on her face.

#spop criticism #spop crit #spop discourse #spop salt #spop critical #anti spop

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centralperkchenford · 10 months

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Chenford prompt + Tim gets shot on a metro call and Lucy panics (happy ending required)

Even in my worst times, you could see the best of me

Chenford prompt + Tim gets shot on a metro call and Lucy panics (happy ending required)

Someday I’ll write an even more angsty one where they don’t know if the other is okay but today is not the day. Hope you like this!

Lucy doesn’t hear the call at first, she’s dealing with a very drunk guy and he’s shouting obscenities at her and into the sky. But once he’s all squared away in the back of another shop (thank god). She hears Lewis over the radio, “my sergeant is down and he’s shot. I need an RA now. ”

Lucy thinks she stops breathing because everything goes black for a minute. Her heart literally feels like it’s going to pop out of her chest. She shakily puts her shop into drive and rushes toward the hospital.

Tim is shot

He’s down

Oh god

Lucy has never felt panic like this. Like her entire world is about to crash over her. All she can think about is getting to the man she loves as soon as she can. She needs to see him, make sure he’s okay. She dials his number with shaky heads, knowing he probably won’t answer but she can’t help but try.

She sloppily parks the shop in a parking space at the hospital and then she’s booking it toward the doors. She knows she probably looks like a madwomen but she could careless all she cares about is Tim. She wants to get to Tim, and see with her own two eyes that’s he’s okay. Or are as okay as you can be after you are shot. The scenarios running through her head are nothing short of terrifying and she feels like she could throw up.

She’s about to scream at some nurses when she feels someone grab her arm. It’s Lieutenant Pine.

“Officer Chen.” She says briskly. “I’m guessing you are here to see Sergeant Bradford.” It’s a statement not a question. Lucy nods, tears burning her eyes.

“He’s okay.” Says Pine her face softening a bit. “It was a clean shot. He just needs to be cleaned up.”

“I need to see him.” She finally manages to get out. “Now.”

Pine studies her for a minute and then nods toward the room at the end of the emergency room.

“He’s a little grumpy.” She says a smile tugging at her lips. “But I’m sure you are used to that. Lucy snorts, Tim is basically always grumpy and she will never admit it to him or anyone but she finds it very endearing.

She thanks Pine still shaky and heads to where Tim is. She knows he will probably be upset she came but she just needs to see him.

She can hear him grumbling at a nurse. And she rips open the curtains making both him and the nurse jump.

“Ma’am you need to leave this—” the nurse begins but Tim cuts her off his eyes darting to Lucy’s face. His face softens when he sees the look on her face. He turns back to the nurse, a stern look on his face.

“She’s my girlfriend.” He says. “I want her here.” Lucy comes into the room more shooting the nurse a look before heading to the head of the bed. The nurse nods and quickly hurries away.

“Tim…” she says softly. “Are you..what happened?”

He shrugs his shoulder, wincing a little as he does. “I didn’t see the gun. There were a lot of them and a few of us.”

Lucy reaches down and grabs his hand which is hooked up to an IV. She squeezes it gently before kissing it. And then she leans over and kisses his forehead.

“I was so scared. I heard it over the radio and I had no idea if you were okay. I mean you weren’t because you were shot.” She says breathlessly. “I—”

Tim reaches over with his good arm to put his finger to her lips. “Baby, I’m fine. I’m sorry you had to hear it over the radio. But I am going to be just fine.”

Lucy still has tears in her eyes because the very thought of Tim shot and on the ground is making her nauseous. She knows their job is dangerous, that it could have gone a lot worse and Tim could be dead. And she’s thankful that it wasn’t worse but still.

Tim reached up to smooth the worry lines from her face. “I’m okay Luce. A few days at home to rest up and then back at work.” Lucy is silent just staring at where his arm is in a sling all bandaged up.

“Are you sure you are fine?” She whispers because even though she has eyes on him, she still can’t be convinced. She knows Tim plays stuff of even when he’s in a lot of pain.

He nods yes and grabs her hand. “Yes. I am or I will be.” He pauses his eyes finding hers and he smirks. “I will be after you take care of me.”

She snorts despite herself and the panic that she had rushing to the hospital is slowly fading. She runs her hand through his hair and plays with the short strands. “Of course I will take care of you. And I’ll make it worth your while.” She says quietly.

“I’m guessing you are okay in here Sergeant Bradford?” A voice says from the end of the bed, both Tim and Lucy look up to see Pine standing there looking amused.

“Yes ma’am.” Tim says turning a little red but he’s still grinning. “I am in very capable hands.”

Lucy ducks her head into his chest and she hears Pine leave.

Tim lifts her head up and kisses her gently. “You can go back to work now Luce. It will be a few hours before I’m released.”

Lucy shakes her head firmly and sits down in the chair. “I’ll call Grey and tell him what’s going on but I’m not leaving you Tim.”

Tim opens his mouth to protest but then sees the look on Lucy’s face and he shuts it immediately. Smart man Lucy thinks. Lucy reached out to grab Tim’s hand and holds it tightly. And then brings it up to her lips to kiss again.

“Are you okay?” Tim asks her after another few minutes of silence. She looks up to see him looking at her intently and she realizes she’s not one hundred percent fine yet.

Lucy shrugs her shoulders.

“I’m just relived you are okay babe.” She answers. Tim frowns and reaches over to tuck some loose hair behind her ear.

“I couldn’t imagine hearing that you were shot over the radio. I wish you didn’t hear it that way.” He says seriously and Lucy bites her bottom lip chewing on it for a few seconds. It wasn’t the best way to find out but if it wasn’t that then it would be at the station or the hospital calling her.

“I would have found out one or another Tim.” She says. “I wish you weren’t shot period but..”

He nods in understanding and then shifts a little so he’s closer to her where’s she is on the chair.

He runs at his arm in the sling a bit but then his eyes are focused back on Lucy. “I’m glad you are here.”

She nuzzles her nose into his neck and kisses it. “No place I would rather be.”

#chenford #the rookie #chenford fanfic #tim x lucy #tim bradford #lucy chen #anon answered #chenford fic

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